Que Sera, Sera
by Cybrokat
Summary: Hermione Weasley's life was fine until she received two letters – both her marriage and her daughter were about to fail. Written for Devsgma for the 2011 Exchange.
1. Chapter 1

This story was written for the amazingly talented **Devsgma** for the 2011 round of the SSHG Gift Exchange. You can check out all the fics here (remove spaces): http:/ /sshg-exchange. livejournal. com/ I highly suggest you do so, as they are all amazing.

The original summary and story prompt are as follows:  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Hermione Weasley's life was fine until she received two letters – both her marriage and her daughter were about to fail.  
><strong>Original Prompt:<strong> #1 – EWE compliant, except of course that Severus is alive, where Hermione is married to Ron. Rose and Hugo may or may not be old enough to be at Hogwarts, but Hermione is unhappy. Somehow, up to the author here, Severus – in his own sarcastic manner – helps her come to grips with her unhappiness, again what is making her unhappy is up to the author, and find a solution. Romance between the two of them is not required, but an _eventual_ friendship is. I would like to see the relationship develop and not be presented as a fact.

This story is complete in 14 chapters, and is a fluffy bit of fluff for the holidays. I hope you enjoy and as always, drop me a line with crit or squee. It's my muse's bread and butter. Oh, and I'll probably have it all posted before the New Year.

**Chapter One**

Hermione Weasley was average. Average height. Average weight. Average hair color. One husband, one house, one cat. Two kids, two brooms, two incomes. Average.

She hadn't always been average. Oh no. There was a time when the name Hermione meant extraordinary, but that was back when it was paired with Granger.

At thirty three years old, she sat and wondered if her prime had passed, even though she couldn't pin down exactly when that prime was. Was it when she helped the Ever Extraordinary Harry Potter defeat Voldemort?

She hadn't done that much, really.

Was it when she graduated with top honors, lauded as the smartest student of her age?

That was just books and cleverness.

How about the birth of her two precious, precocious, and perfect children?

Even she had to admit that as amazing as it was, it wasn't exactly extraordinary.

If she had her prime, she certainly hadn't done much with it, had she?

Hermione sighed as she set a bowl of food down for Crookshanks. The elderly cat still had a bit of spunk and would inform his mistress most unkindly if not fed in a timely manner.

Having that scratched off her mental to-do list, she pondered over her next action. The kids were gone, so the washing was caught up. Ron was gone, so the house was clean. She didn't even have a job to keep her occupied. This day was just turning out to be pathetic.

When Hermione had first graduated Hogwarts, her first action had been to restore the memories of her parents. It had taken months before she felt confident enough to attempt retrieving their memories but the result was a resounding success and her parents promptly sold everything and moved back to their previous neighborhood. Having only missed about two years, they were even able to regain some of their previous dental clientele and welcomed their daughter back into their life – after _much_ explanation.

If Ron was a bit put out with her spending so much time helping her parents relocate, he was good about hiding it.

Shortly after her parents return, Ron proposed and Hermione could think of nothing to say but yes, certain that her life was unfolding exactly as she had planned.

And it did. Right?

Padding barefoot back into the kitchen, she tossed together a quick salad for dinner. Cooking for one was usually a simple affair, and as Ron was still involved with Quidditch, it was also often a common one.

Seating herself at the dining table, she asked herself, "When did I come to this?" When had the bright and ambitious girl become a stay at home wife and mother with no one home to wife or mother? Is this what she wanted now? She needed a life and it would be up to her to find it. She knew she couldn't expect Ron to come to her aid. He had gone out and made a name for himself just as Hermione had taken her name and left it behind. He was in his own world of up and downs and joys and obligations. Sometimes, she wondered if he remembered he even had a home and family.

Now, Ron was still the carefree, good natured bloke he always was. He still made Hermione laugh, still dragged her to him games. But sometimes she wondered if Confunding McLaggen hadn't been her biggest mistake. Without that, Ron may never have ended up where he was and her husband may actually be enjoying dinner by her side instead of on the pitch or out with the guys.

A twinge of guilt made itself known and Hermione regretted her thoughts. It wasn't right of her to wish to take away her husband's happiness for the sake of her own. Just because she had given up her job in spells research didn't mean she could begrudge Ron. They made more than enough with his income, their Ministry stipend from the war and the residuals on her spell patents. It was her choice to stay at home with the children.

Her children were her pride and joy. Red-headed Rose who spoke too much and to anyone reminded her parents of her dearly departed uncle. Hugo, a Gryffindor, with his close cropped brown hair and large brown eyes, was his mother's son, taking to books as his father hoped he would take to flying. But he was only a first year, so there was still some time for the boy to discover sports if he were so inclined. Rose, a fourth year, enjoyed flying as she enjoyed everything but had no inclination to try out for the team and it was just as well. Ron would probably have a hard time rooting for Hufflepuff.

With a sigh, Hermione waved her hand to start her dinner dishes washing and was puzzled when nothing happened. _I must really be out of it_. Taking her wand from her hair, she cast the spell before taking out a book to read for the evening.

The fire had died down by the time Hermione lifted her head again, roused by the sound of tapping on her window. It was the family owl, Archimedes, who must be bringing a letter from Ron. By the time she could shut the window, another owl flew in. This one looked like a Hogwarts owl, and Hermione grew excited thinking about a letter from one of the children. She hoped Hugo was fitting in alright with his classmates, and that Rose was enjoying her classes.

After each owl received a treat, the Hogwarts one flew away and Archimedes went to his perch. The fire was rekindled and Hermione sat back in her chair to savor the tidings of her family.

_Dear Hermione_, started the letter from Ron.

_I want you to know that you mean the world to me. I will always treasure the moments we spent together, and I know we will have many more of those moments in the future as we raise our kids. But I don't think things are the same between us. I think we should separate._

_Now, don't freak out yet. I don't think we should get a divorce yet but I think we should see how things are apart. It feels like that's how we live anyway. I'm always here, and you're always home. I've got plans and you've got the kids. I'm just not sure anymore if getting married was the right thing to do, and if it wasn't, I don't want to waste time doing the wrong thing. _

_I know this is kind of a shock. No one, especially me expected this to happen. I don't know how to explain myself but I know that this is right. I have seriously thought about this. But, what I'm most worried about is you. You were a huge part of my life and I know this isn't easy for you. Just know that this is right for me and that someday you will find someone amazing, and you will understand what I am trying to say. Please try and understand that there is no real explanation for this, but when it's right, its right. _

_I think it's best if we try to sort things out while the kids are at school, so they don't see what's going on. I still love you, Hermione, but I'm not sure if I'm in love with you, and I don't think you are with me either. We can talk more when I come by but I'm not sure when that will be. I've already rented a flat here by the pitch, but I'll have to come and get my things. _

_I wish us both the best._

_Ron_

The other letter sat ignore while Hermione stared at the one in her hands.

She should be furious. She should be devastated. She should be worrying about the children and what Molly would think and how her parents would take it. She should be weeping, and cursing, and throwing his belonging out the nearest window.

But what she was calm. At peace. Serene. The only shock she felt was that it was Ron who realized the truth before she acknowledged it herself.

Had they really wasted all those years together?

No. Not wasted. They grew, as individuals if not as a couple. They were raising two wonderful kids. It wasn't wasted but it was, perhaps, wrong.

_Dear Ron,_

_Perhaps you are right. I admit I've been feeling restless and sedate. Don't worry about coming by. I promise not to hex you on sight or Incendio your things. But I do think we should say something to Rose and Hugo. They may be away but they will still know something is going on and I would hate for them to hear about it from someone else, or worse, the Prophet. _

_Somewhere, we've both lost our way. Perhaps we'll find our way back to each other. Perhaps not. It hurts me to think that you might be right. That we may be at an impasse. We'll see where our paths lead._

_Hermione_

The fire had died low again before the second letter was remembered. Hermione thought about putting it off until morning, knowing that while the children needed to be told, it wasn't going to be tonight. There needed to be a firmer grasp on the situation first. But thinking reading the tales of Rose or Hugo would put her mind at ease enough for bed, she picked up the letter.

Her brow furrowed at the unfamiliar wax seal. Green? A serpent? Who could possibly writing her from Slytherin?

_Oh, my God. Did Hugo actually get sorted into the wrong house?_

_Madam Weasley,_

Hermione felt a sharp intake of breath. She knew that writing. And without anymore prompt, suddenly the letter was being read to her in a deep bass voice overlaid thick with a sneer.

_I feel obligated to inform you that your eldest child is failing my course after twelve weeks into term. I suggest remedial tutoring or promptly removing her from my presence before she brings down the intellectual integrity of the class._

_Severus Snape_

At this short missive, Hermione suddenly felt all the anger, hurt, and frustration she thought she should have felt with the first. Someone just attacked one of her babies.

_Oh no, he didn't._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The next morning looked how Hermione felt with its overcast skies and drizzling rain.

"Sorry about this, Archimedes, but this can't wait," said Hermione apologetically to the owl as she tied on a short missive requesting to meet with Professor Snape at his earliest convenience. Strangely she didn't have anything to send to Ron.

She had stayed up late into the night pondering exactly how she got here. How she came to be in a large four poster bed, alone, worrying more about her daughter passing Potions than she was about her marriage.

It wasn't as though she felt nothing. There was a deep ache in her chest, a longing where her husband belonged. But the melancholy had been there so long she had forgotten about it until the letter. She supposed she was just content before, not happy, but not unhappy. She was Hermione Weasley. She was famous, her husband was a famous Quidditch coach, they had money, she had her kids. So what if Ron wasn't home often? Or if he was too busy to be an attentive father? Or if the last time they had been intimate was when his team won a big match? She still shouldn't complain. Her lot was better than others she knew.

That still, now that Ron had told her he felt the same, something was awaking within her. She wasn't sure what it was, but it felt like a thing with wings.

A photo album lay open on the table in front of her. It had been looked through more in the last 24 hours than it probably had been in the last five years. Their family album.

The first photos dated back from their time at Hogwarts. The Trio as they were known. The three in the Great Hall, in Hogsmeade, at graduation. Afterward there were photos of her and Ron in Australia before her parents came back, out at the pitch with the team, when he proposed in the backyard of the Burrow, and at their wedding. Then came the photos of the kids and Ron became increasingly absent.

She flipped through, page by page, seeing her life go by. And now who would she be? A washed up heroine, a has-been Gryffindor princess, with no knight in shining armor. She offhandedly wondered if she was going to miss having her husband more than she was going to miss Ron.

Tying her hair up in a bushy ponytail, she threw on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt and waited for the return of her owl. She didn't have to wait long.

_Madam Weasley, _

_I have fulfilled my contractual obligation by attempting to teach your daughter and then informing you of the failure. A meeting with you is not needed or wanted. _

_Professor S. Snape_

Damn that man! Why was he refusing to meet with her? She wasn't some student that could be brushed aside. She was a legitimately concerned parent. It's not like she was asking to meet him for tea and biscuits, or to chat about old times.

Merlin, no. She definitely did not want to chat, about old times or the present ones. Merely the circumstances surrounding her daughter's less than stellar marks. Ron would be home in a few days time. No. Ron would be here in a few days. His home was currently elsewhere.

Regardless, perhaps he could make more sense of the situation than she.

Hermione fretted about what to say to Ron when he came home. For some reason, she felt a fight coming on, as sure as the clouds outside promised a storm.

There was no use worrying. What would be, would be.

Ron arrived, not with his tail between his legs as Hermione had expected, but as he always did. Boisterous, travel bag that had but over his should now dropped in the living room and heading straight for the refrigerator.

Hermione leaned her hip to one side of the doorway. "Well, hello."

"Hey, 'Mione," said Ron, in the middle of making a sandwich. "How're the kids?"

A soft exhale escaped. She forgot they rarely wrote him. The kids loved their father, when he was home. But that was so rare, it seemed as though they forgot about him when he was gone, and he did them as well. She was the main link between the two sides.

If they did divorce, would they share the children?

Beating down the irrational rising panic, she tried to calmly explain about Rose. "Well, Rose is having a bit of trouble in Potions."

"Well, with that git teaching, I'm not surprised."

"Snape may have been a berk in class but that doesn't mean he didn't know his subject. He was brilliant."

What a minute. Why was she defending him? She had forgotten she was put out with him at the moment.

"Well, maybe Rose is just like her dad then, eh?"

"It's not just that she having some trouble, Ron. She's actually failing the course."

Ron laughed. "She doesn't have you by her side to force her through it, that's why. Oh well. I'm sure she won't need Potions anyway."

"But that's not the point!" exclaimed Hermione. "And yes, she will need Potions. You know it's required until OWLs in fifth year. She's bright, Ron, there is no reason she should be failing. It's important!"

"You dropped a class. So she isn't that good at Potions."

"I dropped Divination. This is a core class! It's not comparable!" Hermione felt like stomping her foot in annoyance.

Ron sighed. "Look, we all have our weak spots in school, yeah? And maybe this is hers. I'd just give her some time and see if she works it out. It's not the end of the world if she doesn't pass with flying colors. I mean, seriously, Hermione. Is that all you have going on in your life right now that you're tied up in knots about a few grades?"

"What do you…? What do you mean is that all I have going on right now? My life is busy! My life is important! And grades are important! I'm sorry if just because you never had the brains for school you never had the brains to realize that not all of us can get by in life riding the coattails of Harry Potter!" screamed Hermione.

Part of her realized that her attack was unfair, but Rose wasn't just some child. She was _their_ child. Her child. What if there was something more going on and they just brushed it off, thinking kids will be kids? Her parents would have certainly intervened if she had went from a straight O student to earning a D or T! This wasn't a petty matter to be taken lightly, especially when Snape was refusing to grant her an audience to discuss it.

And how dare he insinuate that her life was droll! She kept together their house and home, their children, and their marriage. She cooked, cleaned, shopped, kept all of his and the kids important dates, darned clothes. Everything that needed to be done, she handled. If anything, she needed to do more for herself.

The angry part of her reminded her that not having Ron around would free up some much-needed Hermione time.

She tried to shut that part up.

It didn't listen.

Ron was yelling at her in return. "I am my own man, Hermione! I didn't follow in Harry's footsteps! He never played Quidditch professionally! I got here on my own merits, just like in school!"

"He was Confunded, Ron! I Confunded Cormack so you could be Keeper. You never got in on your own! Harry knew I did it but never said anything because Cormack was such an arse! And your shot with the team came when Harry put in a good word for you and you know it!"

Ron was silent. Nothing was heard in the kitchen except the tick tock of the clock on the wall and Hermione's labored breathing.

Just as she was about to break the silence, Ron finally spoke. "I think I'll stay in a hotel tonight. I'd stay at Harry's but, you know, hate to just use him some more."

"Ron…"

"No, 'Mione. Your point's been made and we both need to think. If you hear from the kids, tell them I said hello. I'll just be a minute, getting my things."

He left the kitchen much quieter than he came in, looking quite dejected. Hermione collapsed in a near-by chair.

This was now how the night was supposed to go. Ron was supposed to come home and commiserate about his daughter's poor grades. He was get riled up and threaten to beat down Snape's door, she'd have to console him, and perhaps they would bond over the experience.

Instead, it was just one more wedge driven between them.

How could she have been so naïve? Ron had never considered school important. With so many older brothers, he never felt the need to apply himself. He would never be the first for anything, so why bother?

But he didn't have a mom like Hermione.

_Dear Professor Snape_…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Madam Weasley,_

_If you wish to know the reasons of your daughter's failure, pester her and leave me in peace. I still see no reason to have your presence inflicted upon my person._

_Professor S. _

Hermione hung her head in frustration, though she reluctantly admitted he did have a point. She would write a letter to her daughter later and she if she was more forthcoming.

She started to box up her husband's belongings. Quidditch trophies, jumpers from his mum, odds and ends. It was surprising how after all the years of marriage, there was still a fine line between what was his and hers.

Taking a break, she wrote a quick letter to her daughter, asking the typical mum questions. How's school, how's your brother, are you making any new friends. And new on this year's letter – has any boy caught your eye?

As she went back to packing Ron's things, and part of her was pondering why he wasn't doing this, she tried to remember the good aspects of him. She did want to salvage this marriage, right?

Ron was the guy who could always make her laugh. He supported her in her search for her family and their reunion, in her quest for a career, in being a stay at home mom. He was caring, and compassionate. He let her be her own individual, not demanding she be some trophy wife following him to all the games.

She remembered back fondly to his words when he came back in the Forest of Dean. That she was the light that led him back. That was the man she loved. Was that man she was married to?

The final box was packed, and a song she hadn't thought of in years came back to her. She pictured her mom singing to a little, bushy haired, inquisitive child.

"'When I was young, I fell in love  
>I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead<br>Will we have rainbows, day after day  
>Here's what my sweetheart said.<p>

Que Sera, Sera,  
>Whatever will be, will be<br>The future's not ours, to see  
>Que Sera, Sera<br>What will be, will be.'"

"Que sera, sera," Hermione whispered, and finding she lacked the strength to do it magically, manually piled the boxes near the door for when he arrived.

As she was wiping the sweat from her brow, another owl flew to her window bringing a note from her daughter.

The letter from Rose was not very forthcoming. She expounded on the difficulty of her classes, a cute Ravenclaw boy, and having Harry's son, Albus, in all her classes. She was apparently also taking her dad's words to heart when she first came to Hogwarts since she specifically mentioned beating Scorpius Malfoy in a Transfiguration exercise.

A short snarl of frustration was heard in the room. McGonagall loved Rose. Flitwick loved Rose. Rose even got along with Trelawney!

It had to be Snape.

Really, that was the only explanation. It was well known that the man hadn't liked her or Ron and certainly not Harry. Rose was the combination of Snape's most hated traits of her parents. A know-it-all like her mum, rambunctious and outspoken like her father. Hermione could only imagine that her daughter was lucky to only be feeling his wrath this year.

Now, to be fair, part of her career at Hogwarts, Snape did have a cover to maintain. But the first four years? He was rude to her in her very first class, before she was friends with Harry, before he knew she was Muggleborn, before she set his robes on fire or stole from his stores!

Much of his character Hermione deeply respected. She could not fathom the things he must have been through and she knew few outside of the Hogwarts staff, and perhaps only a few on the staff, treated him with cordiality. That same could be said for the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry said Snape was the bravest man he ever knew, and Hermione knew he was brilliant even before he saved himself from Nagini's attack. He had to be cunning to predict what Voldemort would do, as well as steadfast and disciplined to build up a resistance to her venom.

He was self-disciplined. He was loyal. He was self-sacrificing.

But he was still an arse as a teacher.

Right now, Hermione didn't care if he was a servant of the Light, or if he loved Harry's mum until what he thought was his dying breath, or if he spent his free time making potions for sick Muggles in Africa. She just knew he was terrorizing her daughter just like he terrorized them.

No wonder Rose didn't say anything. She was probably afraid to. Who knew what threats had been made? What punishments doled out? What knocking at the door?

Wait? Knocking?

Snapping out of her reverie, she remembered the boxes. And the boxes meant Ron. Ron must be knocking.

She should probably answer it.

She didn't really want to.

She wanted to go punch a Potions master like he was a Malfoy.

Grabbing the door after another round of knocking, she let in Ron. "Why didn't you just come in?"

"Well, I'm getting my stuff, you know, moving out. Just didn't feel right."

Hermione's anger deflated a touch as reality settling back on her shoulders. "I suppose your right. I put everything there," she said, showing him into the dining room. After a moment of silence, she inquired when they were going to speak again.

"Oh, I dunno. Few weeks maybe. Give us both time to think. Find ourselves again."

"Alright. Send me an owl?"

"Sure," said Ron, picking up a box.

"Need any help?"

"Nah, I got it," he said as he levitated a few more boxes out the door. "Thanks for packing for me. Just so busy, you know, with the team. If there is anything missing, I'll let you know."

Hermione mutely nodded and with that, he was gone.

And after a moment's hesitation, so was she.

A soft knock resounded in his quiet, cluttered office as Professor Snape sat marking essays, causing him to mutter aloud.

"'Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore…'"

The knock sounded again, more insistent this time.

"'…While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.'"

The knock was now a pounding, complete with a feminine huff, causing the professor to arise from his desk.

"`'Tis some visitor,'" he muttered, "`tapping at my chamber door." He opened the door wide, revealing a disgruntled Hermione Weasley. "'Only this, and nothing more.'" After a brief pause, he continued. "You look like a half drowned kneazle."

"Well, salutations to you too. May I come in?" Hermione inquired, vainly attempting to tame her rain soaked hair. Come to think of it, she never showered after packing Ron's boxes either.

"No."

Again, the feminine huff. "Oh, move over. We both know it's your office hours right now where you are specifically here to answer questions and offer assistance."

Moving aside to let in the small, disheveled woman before him, he inquired how she knew it was his office hours. It wasn't as though there was a sign.

"They are the same as when I was a student. Plus, you just told me," she said with a smirk, settling into his lone visitor chair.

That was positively Slytherin.

"I believe I stated quite clearly, Madam Weasley, that I have no wish for you to be here. May I inquire as to why you are violating those wishes?" drawled Snape as he lowered himself back into his worn studded leather chair and resumed grading. After about thirty years of teaching, he could grade first years in his sleep, but he had yet to figure out a way to get them to grade themselves.

Plus, it had the added benefit of irritating Granger, for in his head, she was still Granger.

"I've written to Rose to no avail. She hasn't said a word about having difficulties in your class; you won't tell me what's going on. You refuse to see me. I want some answers!"

"How does it feel to want? To have a question go unanswered? I bet you are positively incensed," he told her with a smirk in his voice.

She gave him a glare. "What are you doing differently this year that's causing her difficulties?"

"And why would you assume the problem is me?"

She sputtered. Was she really going to tell him exactly what was on her mine?

Yes. She was.

"It's never been a secret that you don't care for my best friend, my husband or me. You often use cruel techniques to make your point, you aren't afraid to single out a member of the class, often the same person for an entire year, and you are heavy handed with your punishments. In you zeal to impart your knowledge, you often forget that you are teaching fragile children. I know my daughter! I see her grades in her other classes, including this year. I hear the comments from other teachers. Her performance in your class does not add up and the only thing that is different is you!"

"Is me," he coldly repeated.

"Yes," she answered, somewhat less sure this time.

He gaze penetrated the silence, searing over her. She didn't know if she had ever been on the receiving end of such an intent look before.

The moment dragged on, treacle in January slow. Whatever he was looking for, he eventually found it, leaving Hermione shifting in her seat and surprisingly silent.

"Come to my class."

"Right now?" she asked, confused.

Snape rolled his eyes. Perhaps this was a poor decision but the option had already been offered. "Come observe one of my lessons. Watch me as I impart my knowledge," he told her, unable to keep out the sarcasm. "See for yourself exactly why your daughter has had trouble in my class."

"I think I will," Hermione haughtily replied, getting up from her chair and preparing to leave. "Tomorrow?"

"It makes no difference. But, Madam?"

She turned at the door.

"You really should see a groomer about that hair."

Hermione whipped out her wand to no avail. No sparks were emitted and the door had already slammed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Has this story lead you to read one of my others? I'd love it if you reviewed them as well as this one. They may be older, but I'm still writing, so I still love to hear your opinion. Thanks and Happy Christmas!

**Chapter Four**

The next morning found Hermione digging through her closet. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was putting effort into putting her herself together. Well, she did pick out some nice robes for the Christmas gathering at the Weasley's, but she was fairly certain it was the same outfit she wore the year before.

But now she was going back to Hogwarts, in front of Snape, and in her daughter's classroom. So many hurdles to have to dress for. Did she dress nicely for the school, something classy and business cut? Did she wear something nice but Muggle, just to irk Professor Snape? Or did she just like a mom so as not to embarrass her daughter?

It got to the point where something had to be chosen or she wasn't going to have time to tame her hair and Apparate.

Or maybe she should Apparate and then tame her hair. That method of travel didn't leave soot on your clothes but it always had a way of messing up...

Robes. She needed an outfit.

Finding the emerald robes she never wore, she tried them on. Ron bought them for her while in Italy. She thought they looked like a modern version of McGonagall's but very nicely trimmed. She liked them but never had anywhere to wear them. Today was as good as any.

Up went the hair in her typical messy bun, a little eyeliner and she was off on her broom without a moment to spare.

Grabbing her hair in a moment of desperation, Hermione was pleased that it hadn't fallen in disarray, at least as best as she could feel. Looking up to the grand castle, she let the nostalgia wash over her before strolling up the well-worn path.

Up the walk, down the stairs and into his classroom, Hermione found a chair set aside in the back. Snape motioned her to it saying only, "Don't be a nuisance," before heading through the door into the storeroom. Glad she beat the students, she promptly sat down and Disillusioned herself. She was certain her daughter's behavior would chance if she knew her mother was watching. This way, any reaction from her daughter would be genuine and she could closely watch Snape for foul play.

A few students came in and took their places. Judging from the students she recognized, this must be a Hufflepuff-Slytherin potions lesson. Gosh, did they ever look so young and vulnerable? She was thankful her children would not have the same school experience she did.

In a fit of girlish giggles came Rose Weasley. Rose had friends of both sexes but was in a group of all girls as she went to find her seat. Her lab partner was Scorpius Malfoy. Hermione wondered how partners were chosen. By name, by house, by choice, or by random. She was pretty sure her daughter wouldn't have picked the blond boy by choice but she couldn't help but notice the smile gracing Rose's face. Scorpius just gave her a shy glance from underneath his long hair.

Curious, she thought but go no farther before the familiar bang swept though the room. Even after all this time, it still made her jump, thankfully unseen.

In swept the man of the hour. An appropriate hush fell over the room and nothing could be heard but heavy footfalls and the swish of fabric. Hermione allowed herself this once to roll her eyes. Striding to the front of the room, Professor Snape laid out a few of the more volatile ingredients not kept in the student cupboard.

Her eyes narrowed in tandem with his at the sound of a little snigger. It was Rose. Hermione waited for her daughter to quit and pay attention like a good Granger, and eventually, she complied, though not without noticing the look from her instructor.

"Today's Lesson," Snape bellowed to ensure he had everyone's attention, "is on Aging Potions. Begin."

These were not first years and had been through enough lessons with their instructor to know the drill. Hermione was about to get up and gather ingredients herself before she remember the reason she was in the classroom. The professor was doing a fair job of not calling attention to her location in the rear of the room, though occasional glances were tossed in her general direction. Apparently he did not have the gift of seeing through Disillusionments like Moody or Professor Dumbledore and he could not discern her exact location.

Much of the class was as Hermione remembered it. The smells of fresh herbs and a few scorched ones and the sounds of the softly bubbling cauldron and the clank of the glass stirring rods mixed with the soft chatter and rustling of the students as they moved about their workspace. The occasional hand would raise and Professor Snape was making slow, sweeping circles around the room leaving no one out of his careful inspection.

A few things she noticed were different. First was that his biting comments were directed at Slytherin as well as Hufflepuff, though her house did receive the lion's share. Second was that he was adding additional instruction to the class as the period went on.

"Crush the berries, Jacobson, do not slice them."

A tall boy looked up to see Professor Snape next to him. "But the book says to…"

"Yes, I realize what the book says, you imbecile, having had the same text for thirty years. Would I punish you for following my instructions?"

The boy hesitated. "No, sir?" he eventually answered.

"Correct. So follow them."

Slowly taking his knife in his hand, with a cautious look at his professor, the boy took the blade and began to gently squash the berries.

Using her disguise to her advantage, Hermione risked a long look at the man her taught her as a child, trying to blend this image with the Half-Blood Prince she knew him to be. His extra instruction to the class helped but it was still hard to picture him as the teen who wrote disfigured spells into his schoolbook.

Close to Hermione, she heard to daughter whisper something to the boy next to her. Not garnering a response, whether she should crush or slicer her berries.

"What do you think, Scorpius?"

"I think that you haven't been paying attention if you need to ask, Miss Weasley. Five points from Hufflepuff. Now crush," answered Professor Snape before the boy had a chance to even open his mouth. Hermione's mouth gaped at the glare her daughter gave the older man once his back was turned.

"I seem to have only four berries and I need six. Can I borrow a few of yours?" Rose asked her tablemate.

"Sure," said Scorpius and was about to scoop up a few of his when he was again interrupted.

"You are aware of the location of the supply closet, Miss Weasley. Five more points and leave your classmates be. They may actually wish to receive marks for this lesson."

Rose let out a dramatic huff and slid out of her seat toward the closet and quickly returned, her seat moving almost imperceptibly closer to Scorpius.

Hermione began to keenly watch her daughter as the professor quizzed the class as they brewed.

"What herbs have a negative reaction to moonstone?"

Rose was clearly not listening. She was mechanically going through the motions of preparing the Aging Potion. Crushing up the moonstone, shredding some valerian leaves, all the while giving sideways glances to the blond Slytherin.

_Gosh, he looks just like Draco_, thought Hermione. Who wasn't a bad looking guy when she was in school, just a pompous arse. But from what she saw so far, his son hadn't inherited those Malfoy traits.

Hermione looked on in silent horror as her daughter, still peering out at Malfoy, grabbed some lavender instead of poppy and sprinkled it in her potion. Instantly the calm bubbling turned sinister and a foul green smoke poured over the sides of the cauldron.

In a blink, Snape was at her side, vanishing the potion. "Idiot girl! Pay. More. Attention! The reactions with moonstone were discussed in this class not more than five minutes past if you could cease your pathetic daydreaming long enough to listen and save the rest of us from yourself. You shall receive a zero for the day. Now sit there and be silent. Learn from the capable student next to you instead of trying to poison him."

With a swish, he returned to the front of the class as Rose's cheeks flared red. Hermione knew that look in her husband and if class didn't let out soon, her daughter would do something to earn herself detention.

Thankfully, the potions were soon completed. "Take took vials," Snape told the class. "Swallow one yourself, and stopper the other for a grade. Rest assured, the only one who would have killed herself is Weasley. The rest of you just may look like Professor McGonagall for the rest of the day."

The class nervously looked at each other. Predictably, a Hufflepuff was the first to take a swig of her potion, instantly growing a little taller, a little rounder, and aging to about 40 years old. One by one, classmates followed suit. The success of the brewing was noted in the students overall appearance. Some aged severely, becoming wizened old wizards. One actually regressed a few years until she looked younger than a firstie.

Scorpius had made a perfect potion. With a small swallow, his shoulders broadened as he grew a becoming goatee and mustache. Even his voice deepened. A 25 year old Scorpius Malfoy was also beautiful.

Rose could barely contain herself. "Merlin," she whispered.

Scorpius looked down to the slender Rose with an inquiring look before suddenly he found himself with an armful of witch. Pressing her lips to his, Rose through her arms around him.

"Miss Weasley!" thundered Snape. "Detention and remove yourself from my classroom this instant!"

Rose pulled back in a bit of shock. Her actions had evidently even surprised herself. She quietly linked out of the classroom, unknowingly followed by her mum.

No sooner did the door shut than Hermione revealed herself. "And just what was that display, young lady?"

Rose let loose a scream and spun in place. "Mum! What? What are you doing here?"

"Finding out why you're failing Potions is what I'm doing here. Professor Snape didn't feel the need to discuss the reasons for your failure so I came to see for myself. That was absolutely disgraceful. You should never let some crush come before your schoolwork and you can bet that there will be an apology."

Rose looked horrified and the other students began to leave the class. The door had opened slowly, obviously the rest of the class could hear Hermione's angry words.

Rose attempted to protest going back in the room. "But, Mum! This is the only class I get to see him in and it's not like our houses actually mingle. I can't just ask him over to my table during dinner and Hogsmeade isn't for weeks! He'll never notice me if I don't do anything."

"He's a Slytherin, Rose. Running over him like a hippogryph is not the way to get his attention. Now move!" demanded her mother, pointing toward the door.

Rose slipped inside with her mum behind her once again. Professor Snape was at his desk, reviewing the labeled vials. Rose harried a glance back to her mum before letting out a sigh and going up to the desk.

"Professor Snape?" Rose whispered. Her teacher raised his eyes to hers. "I'm…I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"For?" prompted Hermione.

"For…ruining my potion."

"And?"

"And interrupting the class."

"Because?"

"Because…" Rose thought for a moment. "Because it makes it harder for everyone to learn and wastes your time, sir. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Professor Snape was still regarding the girl, and looked at her mother with crossed arms near the door. "Is it still your ambition to become an Auror?"

"It is," Rose replied, confused.

"If another incident like today's occurs, I will see to it that your profession will be an apprenticeship to Filch. You need an 'O' in this class next year in order to continue. Without Advanced Potions, you will not amount to more than a useless dunderhead. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Rose meekly. She obviously wanted to leave.

"You are dismissed," said Snape.

Rose looked back to her mum.

"Go on, don't earn another detention by being late," said Hermione. After her daughter made a beeline for the door, she turned to the professor. "I'm so sorry. Teens, you know how they are. In love with one boy one day and a different one the next. "

"I'm well aware."

Hermione swallowed. 'Please let me know if her behavior doesn't change. And I appreciate you letting me come in here today."

"You didn't leave me must choice, Mrs. Weasley. You were quite the nuisance, attempting to hex down my door."

"I didn't…!" Hermione stopped. He was just baiting her. She took a moment to calm down before responding. "You're right. I can see where you wouldn't feel it was your place to discuss teenage infatuation but please do if the situation doesn't improve. Thanks again." After an awkward pause, she added, "I'll see myself out."

Students were beginning to gather outside the door. She barely heard him answer her.

"Goodbye."

Hermione knew something needed to be said to Ron. He didn't seem too concerned about Rose's grades, but she was sure he's change his tune once he heard the new development. She sent him an owl inviting him over under the pretext that he forgot a few of his Quidditch trophies.

After hearing his knock, she hollered for him to come in. She'd be damned if she was going to play hostess to her husband in her own house.

"Hey, Hermione. Where're the trophies?"

"Over there in the box, but Ron, sit down. We need to talk," she told him.

Ron gave her a weary look. Nothing good ever came from the line 'we need to talk.' It was never a chat about everything going perfect, or you've won a hundred Galleons, or your puppy is doing fine. Going to the nearby couch, Ron sat with a thud. "What is it? Have you made up your mind?"

"What?" she asked startled. She hadn't been talking about the divorce. Or the potential divorce. Or whatever. It truthfully hadn't been on her mind since before she saw Snape. Since then she'd only been mulling over the problem with Rose. And, if she was being truthful, she was mulling over a few of the chances in the professor as well. Such an enigma. "No, I was talking about Rose. I went to see Professor Snape. I spoke with him and he invited me to visit his class."

"There's a place I never want to see again. Why on Earth did you go see Snape? Was he giving you a hard time about Rose? Do I need to go talk to him?"

"No! No, Ron, nothing like that. I was concerned, as you know, and I felt like I was missing a piece of the puzzle. You know how that is. Something didn't feel right. I tried writing to Rose but she didn't tell me anything, so I went to talk to him. I thought maybe he was being too hard on her, because of us."

"We weren't exactly his favorites," conceded Ron.

"And for good reason," Hermione added. "But he offered to let me sit in on one of his lessons and see exactly how she was treated in class. I was Disillusioned in the back and you'll never guess the reason she isn't doing well. Ron, she has a crush on Scorpius."

"MALFOY?"

"Well, how many kids do you know named Scorpius?"

Ron was on his feet and half out the door. "This is ridiculous! No daughter of mine is going to have anything to do with a Malfoy! I'm going to go up to that castle right now and-"

"-And what, Ron? Tell your daughter she isn't allowed to like him? You know how well that is going to end. What would you do if someone told you that you can't do something? Besides, she's fourteen. Remember Lav-Lav? Rose will find someone else. But the important thing here is how she was in class. She completely disrespected Professor Snape, to his face. She interrupted class. She was about as smooth as Neville in front of her cauldron. It was horrendous! I'll have to ask him to move her away from him. I can't understand why he hasn't already."

During her speech, Ron came back into the living room. "Well good for her. It's about time someone stood up to him in class. So she has a crush? Every student does at some point or another. Why can't he just ignore it like the other teachers?"

Hermione couldn't help talking with her hands and they were waving about in her quest to explain their child's behavior. "You didn't see her. She was i_rude/i_. She deliberately disrupted class. She even kissed him after he took his Aging Potion!"

Ron sputtered. "She kissed him? That's it. Something has to be done."

"See? I told you. She's gone much too far."

"I agree," said Ron. "I'll see if we can switch her classes. She can't be around that…Malfoy."

Hermione's hands flew up in resignation. "Ron! This isn't about Scorpius! It's about her grades! You know what? If you can't handle this, just go. Leave. Go and I will deal with it. I'll talk to Professor Snape and see if we can figure something out."

Ron headed for the door with the box of his trophies, completely missing his wife's anger. "Are you sure? I can go up there. I can go talk to Draco, tell him his son had better keep his hands off Rose."

"No. Just…don't. Forget I said anything. I'll talk care of it."

"Alright then. Just let me know if that git asks her on a date."

And with that, Ron left, and Hermione felt a weight lift. When had having her husband here become such a burden?

And when had he stopped caring about his children's education? This wasn't just a game. And he wasn't acting like her Ron.

She had some thinking do to.

But first, once again, she pulled out a quill and piece of parchment to write to Mister Enigma.

Hermione laughed. That was as good a nickname for him as any. Mister E. Mystery.

Shaking her head at her own silliness, she put quill to paper.

_Dear Professor Snape_…


	5. Chapter 5

Even though I'm working on the next chapter of my next fic, I took time out to update for you hungry, hungry fangirls. I know you'll respond in kind by leaving a review, and I appreciate it.

**Chapter Five**

_Dear Mme. Weasley,_

_I find your offspring to be as insufferable as you are. Regardless of her abysmal grades in my course, I see no reason to subject myself further to your daughter. Perhaps she can receive tutelage from an senior student. Without at least an Exceeds Expectations in the next term, believe me, she _will_ fail. _

_Prof. S._

It was telling to her that he no longer felt the need for a full signature. Gone was the overbearing formality. But even without, he was still a sarcastic and bitter man. And if the scrawl of her last name was any indication, still not to fond of Weasleys. Of course, the rest of the letter was only moderately more legible.

_Dear Professor, _

_I realize that with your classes and being Head of House, you have many obligations. But I just don't think Rose will be able to learn from anyone else. She is as stubborn as her parents, and apparently lacks proper respect. She is friends with most of the people in the school. Studying will probably turn out just as it did when I was a student - dissolving into shenanigans. Hugo would be able to properly stick to the books, but not my wild Rose. _

_Please, Professor, I entreat you. You can instill in her the importance of the subject. I've read your annotated Potions text. I know you have a brilliant mind and I will rest easier knowing she is learning from the best. _

_And if she doesn't listen to you, she will answer to me. _

_Sincerely, _

_Hermione W._

Hermione attempted to appeal to his chivalry. Surely even Snape could be courteous, right?

No, probably not. That's why she made sure to include an abundance of ego stroking. She had a feeling she knew what his reply would be.

While she waited for Snape's owl, she also once again waited for Ron. After they had last spoke, she received a note from him a few days later requesting a truce and a meeting. She knew they needed to broach the subject of their marriage. And she needed to decide what course of action she wanted to take.

She never saw herself as someone who would get a divorce. That simply wasn't Hermione Granger. In her family, as well as his, it would be positively scandalous.

But...maybe it wouldn't be that horrible.

What would it be like? Being single again? Merlin, being a single mother. Not many eligible bachelors her age. And would she even want to date again? She had more of less been on her own for a few years, and it wasn't so bad. No one snoring, leaving laundry around, taking up reading time.

But it would be nice having someone reading a book in the matching armchair by hers. Or having someone warm in bed beside her. Someone she could turn to for certain...things.

Oh, did she miss some of those things...

She enjoyed being intimate with Ron but the times had been scarce. When he would come home, he would be exhausted from the practices and be too tired. Or she would feel the need to reconnect with him and by the time she felt ready, it would be time for him to go again.

The only ginger warming her bed at night was Crookshanks.

As if he heard himself being summoned, Ron knocked on the door and came in. She had made it clear she wasn't waiting on him. He knew where the door was.

Hermione never even raised from... her seat. She was still deep in thought, considering her options.

Freedom, change, hope, tradition, love, and loss all swirled in her mind. Is where she was where she was meant to be? Was there something more out there for her or was she just thinking the grass was greener on the other side?

"Um, Hermione?" Ron said after a moment. He came in, poured himself a cuppa and sat down while his wife was staring holes through their wallpaper.

"Oh!" Gosh, Ron, sorry. Just thinking," she said, surprised at his entrance. She must have really been out of it. This wasn't something that should have been pt off. She can't believe she hadn't made up her mind yet. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Pathetic, Hermione. You know why he came.

"Well, we haven't really talked since we last...talked." Apparently Ron wasn't having a way with his words either. "I was just wondering if you've come to any conclusions."

Had she? It was still all kind of rolling around in her brain still, and had yet to settle into a definitive pattern. To, or not to. That was the questions.

Ron seemed discomfited at her long silence. Hermione was known to always have an opinion or decision. Her silence was unnatural.

Like a last minute pardon, there was a sharp tap at the window. It's was an owl.

"Excuse me a moment, I need to read this," she told him quickly, and ran from the gallows.

_Exactly what makes you think I give a damn about your child's education? She would not be the first who showed she had no talent for the craft, nor, I'm sure, the last. I see no reason to offer my time out of the goodness of my heart. You are one of the people uniquely positioned to know there is none in there._

_Snape_

In a rush, and noting Ron's odd look, she flipped over the note and wrote on the back.

_I'll scrub and reorganize the Potions stores.  
><em>

_~H._

Quickly tying the missive to the owl, she sent him on his way out the window and returned to her seat. Hermione's heart was beating strangely in her chest, knowing Ron had no idea about her communiqué. It felt illicit. It felt risqué.

It felt exciting.

She knew the contents of her missives were nothing she should worry about keeping from her husband, but she still as though they were her little secret. Stuffing down a nervous giggle, she attempted to answer his questions.

"Honestly, I've been pretty busy so I haven't been able to give it as much thought as I'd like to. Whenever I try to think, nothing comes to me. There is not cut and dry solution. Either way, it's a big commitment. What do you think?"

Ron shrugged. "I like being on my own, but I miss you. I think about the kids sometimes too. I just don't know if I feel enough. When I think of home, of here, it just feels empty. Like nothingness and I don't know if I can get that feeling back. I don't know if it's right for us to try or if we'd be better giving it a go on our own now. Seems like that's what we are doing anyway."

Hermione agreed. She knew what he meant. The hollow, empty feeling inside where once the love of her life resided. And they had been in love once. She knew it was no mistake marrying him. They had enjoyed their youth together and had created a wonderful family. No one could replace those memories.

But people change, circumstances change, and time moves on. Where they were may not be where they needed to be?

"What do you think about counseling?" she asked.

"Muggle method? I just don't think I have time for something like that." Ron could see the look of disappointment on her face. "But we'll think about it, okay? Let's just both take a little longer to think. I'll come by in a few weeks then, yeah? And you can always owl in you need me."

Hermione nodded, not really trusting herself to speak. She didn't feel surprised, and honestly, she felt a little relived. But she also felt an aching sadness.

Watching him head out the door, she felt she was watching the end of an era.

It felt like failure. Hermione didn't like the feeling of failure.

She was going to bake something.

She needed something to keep her hands busy so her mind could think. Her best thoughts came to her when her hands were out of the way. An idle task she could do in her sleep worked best. Baking, folding laundry, cleaning. Any of the hundreds of tasks that made up the life of a typical housewife.

Tonight, it was going to be cookies. She could think now, and have chocolate later.

Hermione went into the kitchen to gather her ingredients, shooing Crookshanks off the counter, only to have him jump up again. It was an ongoing battle between the two.

While gathering ingredients, she gave her wand a swish to shut a cabinet door, but nothing happened. With a frown, she waved it again. Still, nothing happened.

Becoming alarmed, she shooed off Crooks again to set down her flour then pointed her wand at the door, saying "Alohomora!" But the store stayed locked.

"Alohomora!" she repeated, in a firmer voice this time, and at last she felt the familiar pull of magic and the door unlocked. Sweat was now prickling her forehead and Hermione was fairly concerned. Never before had her magic not instantly responded to her. Any little spell she had tried after she got her Hogwarts letter was attempted and perfected without exception.

Until now.

It was true that in her everyday life, unlike some witches and wizards, Hermione didn't use a ton of magic. Part of being raised Muggle and magical was learning to do things in both the Muggle and magic methods. Sometimes, she used a wand, while others, she used her hands. Both were intrinsically satisfied, but it meant she didn't always reach for her wand.

Had her magic diminished? Was it somehow leaving her? Was it possible to grow out of being magical? Had she been cursed?

Hermione was working herself into a fair state of panic. With a delicate hand over her chest, she told herself to take long, slow, steady breaths and not to overreact. Surely, someone would know the answer.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized this was not the first time this had happened. Just the first time she didn't have a readily accessible excuse for her magical failure. Nothing happened when she had tried to hex Snape for insulting her hair. Nothing happened on a few occasions when she attempted a spell after talking to Ron. She didn't know when it started, but she was going to end it.

She needed someone to talk to. Someone who knew about magic, maybe Dark magic, and how to control it. Harry was no good, his work as an Auror was focused on blood magic. Ron could see where pieces fit but was never very good at control or research.

And then it hit her. With a groan.

_Snape,_

_I'm having a bit of a personal crisis and I need your help. My magic seems to be failing me and I'm not sure why. I know this isn't your area of expertise but I'm not sure who to talk to. Do you have any suggestions? _

_Hermione_

No sooner had Hermione put the kettle on and stoked the fire than an owl returned._ iHe must really have no life/i_, she thought.

_Weasley, _

_The letter you sent me is so vague that I don't even know where to begin. Perhaps because I don't care. Try St. Mungo's, and leave me be._

_And to you, that's - _

_Professor Severus Snape_

He was simply insufferable. Why did she think it was a good idea to contact him again? But the cat was out of the bag. She may as well elaborate. Choosing to ignore his more pointed remarks, she drafted another letter.

_My dear Professor Severus Snape,_ (She refrained from adding 'Master of Potions, Head of Slytherin, and a Pain in my Backside)

_My problem seems to have started some weeks ago, though I overlooked it owning to some personal issues in my life I shall not bore you with. I can find no outward cause of my diminished magic. If I cast a spell more forcefully, it will comply, but simple spells casually cast render nothing. Any advice or references would be most welcome. _

_And for now, to you, it's -_

_Mrs. Hermione Weasley_

_Mrs. Weasley, _

_I cannot help but be reminded of the Weasley Matriarch when writing that salutation. To you I shall say the same thing I told her - Go away, Madam, and leave me be._

_~Prof. S_

Hermione crumpled up the note and tossed it into the nearest waste bin.

Well, damn.

She didn't know who else to turn to. There were a few books she could look through...or maybe Minerva might know.

In all probability, she would end up at St. Mungo's tomorrow, going through a full range of magical testing. She hated testing. Damn.

Maybe she just needed a good night's sleep. That was it. A strong cup of tea, eight stress-free hours, and everything would be back to normal. Snape would think she was a bit off her rocker but that didn't matter. He was just her daughter's professor.

Hermione was woken just as the sun was cresting the horizon. What in the name of all that was magical demanded her attention at this hour? Was everything all right was the kids? Did Ron get hurt?

She cracked the window, blurry eyed, and let in the owl who appeared no more pleased to be awake than she. It was probably night time for the poor creature.

Quickly taking the note, she sat back on her bed and unrolled it.

_Weasley - I have a theory..._


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you all who took the time to respond to the last chapter! Please let me know if this one makes you laugh. I know I did. :)

**Chapter Six**

Short, quick fire exchanges had been exchanged between the dungeons of Hogwarts and the Weasley home. Hermione had woken to an owl explaining Snape's theory, but he had a few more questions before he could say anything with certainly.

So Hermione had to open up. She explained that she and Ron were having trouble, that she was a stay at home mum, that she slept seven to eight hours every night, and that she was allergic to copper. Crookshanks was let outside to hunt; she hadn't brewed a potion in ages but did own an owl.

It was quite an extensive interrogation taking up most of the morning. Hermione tried to weasel a few tidbits about himself out as well, to even the playing field, but all she got out of him was that he found her dilemma interesting and Rose's first tutoring session had gone well.

She had suggested that they just meet to discuss the problem, but he was busy with his morning classes and essentially sneaking her notes, so she contented herself by taking a long, hot bath – quill tucked into her hair for safety – and tidying up the house. At long last, he fully explained what he had been thinking.

_H – I feel as though you are dealing with a diminished magical capacity due to the fact you seem to rarely use it. When was the last time you felt a strong pull on your resources? Most wizards immerse themselves in the magical world – you seem to be living on the edge of it. That fact coupled with the stress of recent events in your lift could be causing your magical depletion. Start small and work your way forward. Perhaps now that you're reached a conclusion, you'll stop sending me all of these blasted owls. _

_~S._

_Humph_, thought Hermione. _He's the one asking all the bloody questions._

"Okay, starting small, starting small. First year. Basics. Wingardium leviosa!" she firmly stated and watched with a moue as the parchment containing his letter wobbled and barely rose off the countertop. "This is going to take more time than I thought."

Deciding that perhaps she needed to start after a hearty meal, she made herself some lunch, careful to eat every bite and drain her glass of milk. Perhaps she should stop skipping meals so often anyway, if it was going to affect her magic.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she repeated, and the parchment rose a little higher but there wasn't a very large improvement.

"Alright, let's do this from a scientific standpoint. I need to run an experiment, and record the results, right Crooks? But how can I measure magic? I can measure the height of the Leviosa spell, I suppose. And then move on to Alohomora? Crooks? What do you think?"

She turned around to see the end of a fluffy ginger tail hanging off the arm of the sofa, gently waving in the breeze of the open window. He was obviously ignoring her, and he silly wand waving. At least he wasn't trying to attack her wand like normal.

"Right then, some help you are," she muttered. "I can measure the distance at which I can cast Alohomora. Or how far away I can summon an object. Or maybe I should see how long I can keep you Stupefied," she said to the cat.

Crookshanks slid off the couch and strolled from the room.

The next week was spent with Hermione walking the fine line between exercising her magic and draining it. She was pretty sure she tripped over the line on more than one occasion. She was starting to develop a rather disturbing and severe voice in her head.

"Honestly, girl. How is 15 repetitions of a spell taking it easy?"

"Typical Gryffindor, charge in and forget everything you've learned."

"Slow. Gentle. Easy. For the love of all that's magical, out your wand _down_ and take a break before you're Muggle."

If anyone was going to spend his free time badgering her inside her head, it'd be Professor Snape.

After the week, she gathered up her data to review and noticed something surprising.

There was little change.

Her head fell to her desk. A whole week and no improvement. This was preposterous. Her magic must not know who it was dealing with.

She was Hermione Weasley, nee Granger! This would be conquered!

She drafted another note to Professor Snape and tried to keep out the wheedling tone and the desperate whine. How did she go from years of not talking to him to pulling out a piece of parchment at every turn?

_Answer questions about your daughter, tutor your daughter. Answer questions about you, tutor you. Is your wretched husband next? - S_

_I may not soon have one. Did I mention how much I would love to organize your library? - H_

_There are over 2,000 books, Weasley. And some are very rare. - S_

_Do you remember who you are talking to? - H_

_Done. And if the setup is not to my liking, you shall do it again. My classroom, four -thirty tomorrow. –S_

Wearing Muggle trainers and practical denims under her robes, Hermione entered Professor Snape's classroom ready for some magical training. She knew he was an effective teacher, but hoped it wouldn't be like her memories of his Defense class.

Looking around for him and noting his absence, she took at seat at a table near the front.

"Forgot where the storeroom was, Mrs. Weasley?"

Hermione jumped up to see him standing near behind her. "No, why? And just call me Hermione, please."

"As you wish. As to your first question, I believe I was promised something. I have fulfilled my end of the bargain and it's time for you to fulfill yours. Why else would I call you here?"

"But…" she sputtered. "My magic! I need your help rebuilding my magic!"

"Of course. And what better way than by giving it a break while cleaning my Potions storeroom? You can't use magic, after all," he answered her with what was almost a grin.

"You slimy, Slytherin…"

"Please. Refrain from your gratitude. You'll need to save your breath for cleaning. I don't believe it's been completely overhauled since you were in school."

She glared at him a moment before her sense of fair play kicked in, and her annoyance deflated. "You're right."

"Of course I am."

Her eyes narrowed. "About the storeroom. Thank you for taking time to tutor Rose. I know she'll be a better student because of it. I'll hold up my share of the deal. Do you have any cleaning supplies?"

"I'm afraid not. But my house-elf, Bilbo – no, I did not name him," he said flatly as she giggled, "-can help you find what you need. I'll be grading in my office if, for some reason, you need me. Until then, clean whatever your little heart desires."

His long strides quickly took him from the room as she watched him go, still billowing. "Some leopards never change their spots," she mumbled. "Bilbo!"

An extremely elderly yet spry elf popped into the room with his nose almost to the floor. "Miss calls for Bilbo?"

"Yes. Can you fetch the things I'd need to clean Professor Snape's storeroom? Don't worry, he asked Miss to clean."

"Has Bilbo been bad? Is he not worthy enough to clean for Master? Bad Bilbo! Bad!" The head that had been near the floor was now banging against it. In alarm, Hermione straddled the elf and pulled up his head with both arms. He was surprisingly strong for being so small.

"No, no, of course not. I'm sure you take very good care of him. But he is doing me a favor and I told him I would do this in return."

The elf eyed Hermione. "Miss asked to clean for Master?"

Exasperated, she agreed. "Yes, Miss asked to clean for Master."

"Miss is good elf then. Tall elf, but good elf. Bilbo will get the things Miss needs."

"Thank you, Bilbo," Hermione told him but he was already gone.

She had started pulling out old jars with the elf returned. He handed her gloves, a mop, a sudsy bucket, sponges, and a rag before giving her a nod and popping out of sight.

"Silly creature," she said aloud before beginning the cleaning in earnest.

It didn't take too long before she had worked up quite a sweat. "Bilbo!" she stated. One the elf appeared, she continued. "Is there somewhere I can wash my hands and put up my hair?"

"Yes, yes, of course, Miss."

Bilbo led her to the back of the classroom. Off to the side, he waved a hand and Hermione's eyebrow rose as a door sprung free.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," she told her pint sized companion.

"Elves have access to all rooms in Hogwarts," he told her, and in a conspiratorial whisper added, "And Master's study is on the other side."

"Ah, I see." Figuring that fighting him would take longer than washing her hands, she sucked in a breath for courage and crossed the threshold into the professor's personal quarters.

Inside the stone walls, she found spare, Spartan quarters. A wooden desk with papers piled high, a leather armchair in front of the fireplace with a small table, and a threadbare rug were the sole furnishings besides the sconces separating the floor to ceiling bookshelves.

"He wasn't kidding about his books, was he, Bilbo?"

"Bilbo doesn't know, Miss. Was he?"

"Never mind," said Hermione. "It's awfully dusty in here. Do you clean?"

Bilbo's lower lip began to tremble. "Master doesn't allow elves to clean. Elves bring food, take laundry, nothing else to be touched. Bilbo must be bad elf!"

"Oh stop it, you're not bad if you are following Master's orders, right?" reasoned Hermione.

The elf didn't look entirely convinced but didn't bang his head on the floor.

While talking to Bilbo, Hermione tried the doors, looking for the bathroom. The first door was his bedroom. "Awkward," she said out loud, noticing briefly the small bed, large armoire, more bookshelves.

The second door led to his bathroom. "Possibly even more awkward," she said softly while taking in the furnishings. A large mirror over a double sink, bottles lined the counter with everything neatly in its place. A shining marble tub and commode greeting her, showing her that this room, at least, was kept immaculate.

"Do you clean in here then, Bilbo?"

The little elf peering around the door frame. "Oh no, Miss. Master is very particular. He has always kept tidy."

"Interesting." Strange that he would value personal hygiene but not his own comfort. "Bilbo?"

"Yes, Miss?"

"Professor Snape said I could clean, right?"

It had been hours since he sent Hermione to the storeroom but he had yet to hear a word. He knew it was bad, but surely she had some annoying question or another by now. Unless something fell off the shelf and killed her, which was a possibility.

Falling into old habits, he almost yelled out for Miss Granger. Weasley was a wretched name to saddle anyone with anyway.

"Hermione?" he called into the empty classroom with his rich baritone. "Have you been dispatched?"

Hearing no answer, he looked in on the untouched Potions closet. "Odd." Then he noticed the open door to his quarters. With narrowed eyes, he approached the door, wondering if she decided to get started on the books first.

What he found in his rooms were not clean bookshelves.

What he found was clean _everything_.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he loudly exclaimed.

Hermione stopped her final dusting. She was wearing a small white apron tied around her middle and held a feather duster in one hand. Despite her startled expression, she looked like a French maid.

With her large brown eyes trained on him and a few wisps of curly hair plastered to her eyes, Severus felt something stir within him that he had not felt in quite some time.

"Cleaning?"

His arms folded across his chest. "Cleaning my personal rooms?"

"Well, you did say anything my heart desires. I desired to tidy up a bit. I'll be able to be more focused when I organize the bookshelf."

Severus took a look around the room. The sconces were polished, the chair was freshly oiled, and everything was dusted. The papers on his desk had been sorted and there was a vase of fresh flowers on the table.

Even the dank air of the lower dungeons now smelled fresh.

His first instinct was to rage at her. He wasn't in the habit of inviting people into his rooms and he certainly didn't want them rooting through his belongings. But he couldn't help but appreciate the hard work and little touches she had added to the room. Respect was shown for each item he cared for.

"Nothing was thrown away?"

"Nothing but some dust bunnies."

With a swish, he left her to her business.

"Well, I thought that was going to be loads worse."

Bilbo raised his ears. "Miss has made Master happy."

"_That_ was happy?"


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for such a wonderful response to the last chapter. I hope this one holds up as well!

**Chapter Seven**

In the morning, Hermione knew she needed to get out of bed and get going, but was procrastinating in the warm covers.

Reflecting on the night before, she couldn't believe she actually went in and tidied her old professor's room like his mother. Was that who she was now? Just a mum who couldn't help cleaning up after people?

Oh, and the look on his face when he saw her was priceless. For a moment, she was fairly certain he would annihilate her on the spot. But the moment had quickly passed and he controlled himself.

The elf claimed that was his happy face.

"Jubilant," said Hermione to herself as she finally threw off her blankets. She had told him she would be back to actually tackle the storeroom this time, and would be in after lunch. Which meant that she needed to get herself showered and put together sometime in the near future.

_Once more into the breach_, she thought as she headed into the shower.

Hermione was not unfamiliar with picking out an outfit for Snape's detention so one went the old trainers, the faded denims, and a stained t-shirt that her parents gave her from Australia. Today, she didn't even bother with a robe. It would just be one more thing to wash at the end of the day.

Tying up her hair before she left this time, she headed out to meet the Professor.

Rose's red hair was easily seen as she walked through the sea of students in the halls of Hogwarts. The chatter was a din in the stone halls, and nothing could be discerned but the occasional peel of girlish laughter, much of it from Rose. The fourth year was as vivacious as her uncle George was, making many of her professors roll their eyes exclaiming, 'Another Weasley.'

Only one professor said the phrase with a sneer, and unfortunately that was where she was heading now.

"I'm so sorry you have detention, Rose," said her friend Cassidy, a fellow fourth year Hufflepuff.

Rose gave a small smile at being reminded where she was going. She didn't think that Professor Snape's detentions were worth the horror they evoked in students, but it certainly wasn't going to be a pleasant evening. One time is was cauldron scrubbing - as if she didn't do dishes the Muggle way at home, and another was grading first years' essays. At fourteen, she felt she could be trusted with them, and apparently, he agreed.

She really did like the professor, despite her dismal performance in his class. And it wasn't her fault that it was the only class she shared with Scorpius. And the fact Scorpius was wicked and brilliant, and she couldn't keep her eyes off him.

The Potions professor was trying to teach Rose. And Rose really was trying to learn. Since she started tutoring with him, her grades were turning around. She received a lot of teasing from her fellow classmates, mostly the Gryffindor. The Ravenclaws understood the need for excellence, the Hufflepuffs had nothing bad to say about the teacher and the Slytherins weren't going to disrespect their Head of House.

Today was going to be part tutoring, part detention. She deserved both. The potion she was going to make was needed by Madam Pomfrey and it was also the potion she botched in class that morning. The fluxweed she swore she chopped correctly, but apparently not, and that was the only mistake Professor Snape could tell just by looking at her result. Some days, she felt like not even bothering to try the potion in class and just saving her ingredients until her session. Her mum was already going to have to restock her Potions kit at Christmas.

The small smile remained as she told Cassidy she would be fine. She knew the work. And it wasn't like she was going to be distracted by Snape. He wasn't Scorpius. That was the only Slytherin for her.

Rose came into the room, tied up her long red hair, and started to set up her cauldron. She could hear the rumbling in the Potions storeroom and assumed her professor was gathering things up for the next period later that afternoon. Nonplussed, she began the potion. She knew he was find her if needed, chastise her like an errand daughter and then leave her be to finish the potion. It was their system and it suited them well.

Rose's head popped up as she heard a clatter and a female curse. The voice sounded familiar. Perhaps there was a classmate who was sharing her detention with her.

"For Merlin's sake! Do you have a taller ladder or am I just supposed to levitate myself? We don't all have that ability you know!"came a disembodied voice from the closet.

"…Mum?"

"Rose…bollocks!" said the voice as another cacophony was heard, followed by a loud thump.

"Mum! What're you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" asked Hermione, a bit exasperated and brushing off where she fell on her rear. "Professor Snape and I are trading a few favors."

Her daughter grew strangely quiet. "You?"

"Yes."

"And Professor Snape?"

"Well, naturally. What's so bad about that?"

"What does Dad think?" inquired Rose, on hand being raised to her hip.

Hermione huffed. "Well, he isn't happy about it, dear, but some of it I didn't tell him. You know how he is, and I couldn't just let you fail Potions."

"Mother! You're trading sex for my Potions grade?"

A loud gasp was heard. "Trading…what? Rose Marie Weasley! You watch your tongue! I would never do such a thing!"

Her daughter was clearly agitated and began to shout. She was overwhelmed with her misconception that something was happening between her married mother and her instructor. "What was I supposed to think? Here you are, in my school of all places, telling me you are trading favors for my gra-"

"Miss Weasley. Count," came a sudden, deep voice from the doorway.

"This doesn't really concern-"

"Count," repeated Professor Snape.

Rose gave him her fiercest preteen glare, but began to count. "One…two…"

"In Greek."

"Gooood…Ena…Dio…Tria…"

Hermione grabbed his robe sleeve and pulled him aside. "What are you doing?"

"I've noticed your daughter has a bit of a temper."

_Slytherins and their understatements_, thought Hermione.

"When she begins to become hysterical, I make her count until she has regained control. If she is near her breaking point, she will count in a foreign language."

Hermione didn't immediately respond. She knew that Snape had dealt with all manner of students over the years but she was surprised at his aptitude in controlling her daughter. Ron was never able to handle the handful that was Rose without a meltdown for one of them.

"Some children are special."

Snape looked down to her. "So most mothers believe of their children."

Hermione's eyes widen at the tone in his voice. Clearly, from the way he spoke, he didn't believe that most children were. Or perhaps, his own mother didn't believe that of her son.

She looked to him and really looked at him for the first time since she had arrived. He had always seemed like such an object, as most teachers do. Teacher's didn't go to the loo, or out to the dentist, or pick up new robes at Gladrags.

He looked a bit worn, but better than when she knew him before. Fifteen years had passed since they had really been in contact. She knew had survived Nagini's bite, and was right back in his role at Potions master by the next term. Even though he was older, without such a heavy burden laid upon him, he appeared younger. He had aged before his time, and now it was as though he took a De-Aging potion.

There was the faintest sign of gray at his temples, and she could see light red marks on his nose indicating the frequent use of reading glasses. From this vantage point, she could see that his eyes were not black as she always assumed, but the deepest chocolate brown, like her favorite rich dark cocoa.

Suddenly, his head turned to catch her looking at him. He said nothing and merely looked back up to watch Rose.

Following his eyesight, Hermione fought a grin. "You're fond of her."

"The very notion is ridiculous."

"I can hear you!" an annoyed teenage voice.

Snape went over to Rose's table and inspected her set-up. "I believe you have a potion to brew."

Nodding, Rose began to carefully shred her fluxweed. She wasn't going to screw up again and have to come back after dinner to brew.

Beside her, Snape began setting up his own cauldron.

"What are you two brewing?" inquired Hermione.

"A healing potion you no doubt remember from your own school days. Your daughter was a bit distracted this morning and her brewing failed. More is needed in the Infirmary so we are going to spend the afternoon brewing more…correctly." He added with his typically derision.

Hermione's face lit up. This was a potion she remembered clearly and one she enjoyed brewing when she was a fourth year. She hadn't stirred a cauldron in what seemed like ages and now she couldn't wait to pick up a rod. The Potions cabinet was almost completed. She could take a bit of time off.

"Can I join you?" she hopefully asked.

The infamous eyebrow rose on the dark clad man. "You wish to brew?"

"Of course I do!" said an excited Hermione.

"Of course you do. Merlin preserve us. You're just trying to not clean the cabinet."

She sighed. "The cabinet is almost completed and I can always come back tomorrow if need be."

Rose grimaced at her mum. "You want to come back?"

"Why wouldn't I?" said Hermione. "I made a promise and I'll see it though."

Snape's face had taken on a strange look for a moment, and then he frowned. "Yes, mustn't break your _promise_. There are cauldrons in the sink. I daresay you know where the supplies are."

Hermione wondered at his tone. Was he mad she wanted to join them? Was it a special time for him and Rose? No, that was silly. He probably didn't think she'd finish the work. After setting up her cauldron, she tugged at his sleeve again to get his attention. "I really will come back tomorrow," she whispered.

"I have no doubt you will," he said in a tired voice. "Now brew. I'll have class in here eventually."

Hermione, Snape and Rose worked through the entire afternoon. Vial after vial of the healing potion was made. So much that Rose was complaining of being an indentured servant. Reminding her that if they finished, she'd have the evening free inspired the girl to go back to her brewing with renewed vigor.

The afternoon passed mostly in a comfortable science, with a softer version of the Potions class soundtrack being played. Only a few rods stirred, a few knives chopped, and no vials were broken. The susurrus of whispers between them was heard on occasion, Hermione confirming that her techniques were correct and Rose whispering, "This is so weird."

After they were finished for the day, Hermione made plans to see him again the on the following and offered to see Rose up to her tower. It wasn't very often she got to see her children during the year and she hoped the next day she would see Hugo.

As they walked up the long stone staircase, Rose inquired, "Are you sure you weren't in detention, Mum? I bet Snape could put adults in detention."

"Professor Snape," her mum automatically and absently answered. Suddenly, she was getting an entirely different image of what detention with the professor could be like.

His dark robes would brush against her bare calf, just below the hem of her schoolgirl skirt as he walked past her. He would demand she bend over the desk to take her lashing. Long, tapered fingers ran up the back of her thigh before a hand was placed firmly against her bum. Her gasp would be covered by the loud smack that rang out in the room…

"Mum?" asked Rose. "We're at my room. I need to go now."

"Oh! Sorry, dear. It's just been a long day. I love you, and thanks for letting me spend the afternoon with you."

"No worries, Mum. I think _Professor_ Snape enjoyed it." Rose told her before giving her mum a hug and heading into the Hufflepuff common room.

As Hermione walked out to leave, she reflected on two things.

One, that was the second time in as many days that someone commented that she had made the professor happy.

Two, she hadn't thought of her marriage that day. Not once.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry this is a bit later in the evening than normal. There was homemade soup to be made. :) And if you would like a response to your review, please make sure PMs are turned on. I know I have at least one reviewer who doesn't so if I didn't answer you, that's why. (I believe that's you LunaJen)

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione sat on the couch staring at her estranged husband. It felt as though a Stunner had been lifted and she was relly looking at him for the first time in a long time. He had gained a little weight, maybe a stone or two, and his infamous ginger hair was beginning to thin a bit like his father's. Ron still had the broad shoulders he earned with his profession, but they didn't see as attractive as she had found them before. They weren't as manly. As protective.

His face was a jovial as it had ever been. You could still see that he was a typically pleasant fellow, even now when he wore such a serious expression. Many women found him appealing, but was it just for his fame and connections? Did people actually get to know him as she had?

Was she sucked in by his charm as well? Did she miss the signs along the way pointing to danger, saying 'Keep out!'?

So many questions. Too few answers.

For now, she needed to focus on the conversation at hand.

They were once again discussing Rose, and a bit about Hugo as well. And as always, the elephant in the room was their marriage. It had been a quiet couple of weeks without Ron home here and there. Hermione was a little surprised as how calm she felt about that. Of course, she had still kept busy with her magical tutoring sessions, which were a breath of fresh air even if she was magically a toddler.

And if she were being honest with herself, which she believed was a logical thing to do, she was enjoying her time with Rose and Severus more than she ever enjoyed family time with Ron. The guilt from that admission was threatening to eat her alive. She felt as though it was written across her face that she was a scarlet woman. Part of her felt as though she needed to step away if she wanted to focus on her marriage and save what was left of her and Ron. The rest of her recoiled at not having that special time at Hogwarts anymore.

It surprised Hermione how different Severus was from Ron or Harry. Well, that fact didn't surprise her but how much she enjoyed his company when he was so different from the boys did. He didn't make her bray with laughter but often made her chuckle. He didn't shy under her bossy demeanor or roll her eyes when she mentioned a book. He didn't regale her with Quidditch near misses, or the adventures of his youth.

He made her feel like a woman. Something she hadn't realized had been missing from her relationship with Ron.

At least once a week for the past few weeks found her in his classroom. She was slowly regaining her magical strength now that she had someone to make her do things like eat and rest. She needed to learn when to attack, he told her. It couldn't just be constant go, go, go.

And he adored Rose, though in not so many words. It was clear he took a certain interest in her, though Hermione didn't know why. To her, her daughter looked like just another Weasley, just another teenage girl. But he must have seen something special.

At just their last meeting...oh, wait. Ron was speaking again.

"So do you think you'll be bringing the kids to any of my games?"

"Why don't you bring them yourself, Ron?" Hermione automatically shot back.

Ron shrugged, nonplussed. Well, I'll be busy, you know, with the guys and the fans and everything. I can't really pay attention to two little kids as well."

"You realize they are eleven and fourteen, right? They would be more than happy to warm the bench with you. They don't need me or a nanny. Rose's grades have improved enough that I don't mind you taking her out for a Friday night."

Ron stretched his legs out on the sofa which made Hermione cringe. He could at least take his shoes off first.

"See?" he told her with a smug grin. "I told you she'd pick them back up."

"Only because of Severus."

"Severus? That a classmate? I can't believe someone would actually name their child after that git. Bad enough for little Albus."

Resisting the temptation to roll her eyes or respond like the namesake, she simply answered, "Snape, Ron. Honestly."

His eyebrows shot to the ceiling in comical fashion. "He's Severus now, is he?"

She took a deep breath, and began to count. One...two..."Yes, he is. I couldn't just keep calling him Professor Snape. I'm not eleven."

"And why are you talking to him at all?" Ron was becoming increasingly agitated and apparently, jealous. He was the one that asked to separate, not her. He had no right to complain if she talked to another man, especially if it was regarding their daughter. In fact, that was exactly what she was going to tell him.

"Because he is Rose's and Hugo's teacher. I can't just not talk to him. I asked him to tutor Rose, and he is. And he is doing a damn fine job of it. I know he doesn't have a lot of sympathy for dunderheads," she said as she shot Ron a glare, "so I offered to clean out his Potions storeroom in return."

"Oy, so I see how it is. I suggest taking a step back and you run right into the arms of that git!"

Now on her feet, she told him, "Well it's not like I ever have yours to run in to, now is it? Just because you're not doing the job, Ronald Weasley, doesn't mean no one wants to fill the post!"

Ron grew quiet as Hermione grew frustrated. Why was he the second person to think she was sleeping with Snape? Three..four...five...

"I'm not sleeping with him. Or anyone. Nothing is going on. I offered to help, and I enjoy talking to another adult sometimes, and being able to see our children. Severus is a nice guy, once you cut through all of his wooly armor. We have a lot in common. He adores Rose, and has been slipping Potions texts and other books that Hugo finds fascinating to him after class."

"I'm just not okay with that. I'm not okay with him around you, and I'm not okay with him around our children. I'm just not. I don't want you around him. I'll find someone else to tutor Rose."

"You know what? No."

"No?" asked Ron bewildered. Hermione never told him no.

"No. No, you do not get to dictate who I see or do not see. And you do not get to dictate who sees our children, just based on your own prejudices. You stepped out of the role of their father. You decided that Quidditch came first. I put our children first, I see how Severus is helping them, and I say things are just fine where they are. And before you get your broom in a knot, he is not trying to step in and be their father. But he is stepping in and being there which is more than I can say for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have things to attend to."

With a quick, prim step, she left the room and shut the front door behind her.

Seventy three...seventy four...seventy five...

Hermione was almost up to a hundred and twenty but the time she found herself outside the Potions classroom.

Her head wasn't thinking about her destination, but it seemed her feet knew where to take her. She rested on hand on the cool wooden door, fingers rubbing the metal inlay. Behind the door, she could hear voices. Worried that she would be intruded, she almost turned away until she realized the other occupant was her son, Hugo. Wondering why he was with Snape, and fretting he was in trouble, she knocked.

"Enter," came the usual command.

She entered softly, noting the surprise of all three faces, as they more than likely looked at the surprise on her own. The tableau before her was not was she had expected.

Rose was standing near a steaming cauldron, chopping an unknown herb. Snape was behind her, one arm coming around to show her correctly stir and count rotations. Hugo was sitting on top of a nearby table with a book now about to fall off his lab as he looked at his mum in surprise. The only thing still moving was the stirring rod, so as not to render the potion useless.

Simultaneously came a chorus of "Mum?", "Hugo?", "Mother?", "Hermione."

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We could ask you the same thing," answered Rose in a flip tone.

"Miss Weasley, respect your mother."

"Yes, Professor," came the demure response and her daughter went back to chopping.

"Hey, Hugo, are you studying or in trouble?"

Judging by Hugo's position, legs happily dangling off the table, Hermione was fairly certain she knew the answer.

"Studying," answered Hugo. "The professor is having me readMagical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. He said it can come in handy."

Hermione smirked, forgetting her anger for just a moment. "Yes, it certainly can. You should ask your Uncle Harry about that one some time."

"Uncle Harry has read it?"

"Not exactly," she told him, "but that book helped him overcome a big obstacle. He can tell you all about it."

Hermione moved around to Snape who showed little reaction when she tugged on his sleeve to pull him away from Rose. "Can I talk to you a second?"

Nodding his head, he followed her to a quiet corner of the room.

"I'm sorry to just burst in on you like this." She paused. "Ron and I had a big fight." Another pause and a sigh. "I said some things I shouldn't have. Well, things that needed to be said but not quite the way I said them. Anyway, I'm rambling. Can I stay here? I mean, not like in your quarters, but in your classroom here for a while, with the children?"

"They are your offspring, Hermione. Do with them as you please. I would not be adverse to having another wrangler."

"Because Hugo is so difficult," answered Hermione with a bit of cheek, looking at her son who was still engrossed in his book. "Why is he down here anyway?"

'I believe he saw Miss Weasley coming for a remedial lesson and, as she put it, tagged along. He has now followed her for the past five sessions. I finally gave him a book to get him out from under my feet."

"I see," she told him, reading between the lines. If Severus wanted Hugo gone, he would be gone. She imagined he saw much of himself in her son. Quiet, introverted, intelligent. But Hugo had his sister to follow, leading him away from other paths.

Hermione walked over to where Rose was diligently stirring the cauldron. "Can I help?"

Giving her mum a smile, Rose told her, "sure' and slide over the beetles to be dissected.

She didn't miss the smirk that flitted across Severus's face. "Lovely," Hermione told her and grabbed the knife.

Ron slowly meandered through the castle for the first time since the memorial feast following the death of Voldemort. Nothing had changed in the timeless place, including most of the names occupying it. There were still Weasleys and Potters and Malfoys. All the old names managed to live on, while adding in new Muggle blood every year.

He knew that he would find his wife here. He didn't know how, but he knew. Whether it was her connection to the castle or to their children, he didn't know, but something would bring her here. Following what she said earlier, he headed down to the dungeons, hoping to find Hermione to apologize.

Nearing the Potions classroom, he gave an involuntary shudder. He had no happy memories of the place. But nearing the door, he heard something that never before could he remember occurring with these walls.

The sound of a girl's laughing. No one was happy to see Snape.

He peered his head around the door.

"So I told Emily that there was no way that he turned Professor McGonagall's hair green but he did! She was so mad. I'm surprised Hufflepuff even still has House Points."

"Yes, well," said Severus. "Ten points to Hufflepuff. For creativity."

He said it completely deadpan but an observer would have thought he told Rose she was his star pupil by the way her face lit up. She excitedly began to recite, 'One! Two! Three!..."

"Rose, why are you counting? You aren't angry, honey," asked her mum.

Rose look chagrined. "Because last week, Professor Snape gave me an 'O' on my essay."

"That's wonderful!"

'Yeah, but I was so excited, I hugged him. He was making Wolfsbane at the time and, um, I kind of made him ruin the whole batch."

Hermione opened her mouth to chastise her daughter but Rose interrupted. "I know! I know! It's really expensive and takes a long time and it's really complicated. Professor Snape told me. A few times. He was, um, pretty angry. So if I get really excited, I sit on my hands and count to ten first. Professor Snape told me that I might have been sorted into the wrong house."

Stifling her laughter, she asked Severus, "Is that true?"

"She was rather exuberant. I hope to not repeat the experience in the future. Only 'T's from now on."

"Hey, that's not fair!" exclaimed Rose.

"Honey," her mum told her, "I think he's kidding."

"Oh, it's hard to tell."

The family didn't notice the red hair peering around the corner who slipped away during the conversation, but Severus did. If the man didn't want to come join his family, it certainly wasn't his position to force him. And besides, he'd lose his potions help.

After the kids went off to bed in their rooms, Hermione took a cup of tea with Severus in his quarters. She had only been in there to clean, but he extended the invitation and she accepted. She knew if she just went home, it would be to an empty house and she would end up brooding.

He sat straight in his chair, barely looking at the woman curled up in the chair next to his.

"Can you just talk?" she softly asked, as the weight of the fell around her like leaden snow.

"About?"

"Anything. Everything. What research are you working on? What's happened at the castle in the 15 years I've been gone? Do you still have to chase students out of the nook on the fourth floor?"

Severus heard many comments on his voice but even that coupled with being a professor, he still hated to hear himself talk. It was like he was talking out the wrong end of a drainpipe. And he was never one for idle chitchat.

He told Hermione about Minerva being Headmistress, and about working on a more efficient healing paste. That Neville was competent in the Herbology position, but she never heard him say that. He prattled on about what he could think of before finally asked her a question, which she never answered.

Looking over in her chair, she was asleep.

"And I thought you didn't want to stay in my quarters. Cheeky minx. You could have just asked."

He was surprised at his own admission. He must have been feeling bold, knowing that she couldn't hear him. Coward.

Throwing the lurid purple throw from Albus he kept in the closet over her, he extinguished the lamp and went to bed.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

In another bed, another man lay awake, thinking about the same woman. He was thinking about how he was losing her, how he lost her, and how he lost their family. He thought about holding on, he thought about fighting it. He thought about screaming.

He thought about their kids, and what he saw tonight, and how happy they were. Even with _him_.

He decided to let her go.


	9. Chapter 9

Note: Who just realized has been taking out all my section divisions? This girl. Curses! But in other news, reviews have been on fire! Love it, ladies! At this rate, there will be a following one shot where Severus fulfills their bet. What's the bet, you ask? You'll just have to stay tuned!

**Chapter Nine**

A gentle rustling in the chair let Severus know his unexpected houseguest would soon be waking. A strong pot of tea usually did that.

He sat down with his own cup – Earl Grey, hot – and sorted for a few things he would need for the mornings classes.

* * *

><p>Hermione inhaled deeply, smelling the fresh herbs and sensing the humidity that could only mean one thing.<p>

Tea.

Was Ron home? That would be ridiculous. They had just had a big fight, and she was usually the one to offer a truce. And she doubted he even knew where the coffee pot was.

She exhaled deeply, resigning herself. Crookshanks probably knocked the tea off the counter again. She really should move it.

With a yawn, she stretched and rolled out of the chair. Wasn't the first time she fell asleep in front of the fire. She could still smell the smokiness from the extinguished coals.

It wasn't until she opened her eyes that she realized something was wrong. For being the brightest witch of her age, she wasn't the brightest in the morning. It took bangers and strong tea to rev up her brain.

Oh sweet Merlin. She had crashed at Snape's. Severus's. She was in the room of her daughter's _teacher_. And she was married! This was so not good. Bad, bad, bad.

Sitting up with a gasp, she tossed off the blanket, not even fretting about where it came from. She jumped out of the chair, flattening the wrinkles in her clothes and running her fingers through her hair. There was no doubt that it was in a wretched state after spending the night in the chair. It hadn't been restrained at all.

And now here she was. Wriggled clothes, Medusa hair, morning breath, standing in front of an immaculate Severus. The world just was not fair.

"I am so sorry. I'll sneak out before any of the students or teachers are up. No one has to know I was in here. Gods, I'm so sorry. You're not going to lose your job or anything right? And no one will tell Rose? Right? God, promise me no one will tell Rose."

Severus had watched as the woman woke up and the look of panic set in her eyes. If he had any thoughts that perhaps her narcolepsy was intentional, it was dashed at her frantic waking. His next thought, now that his Slytherin instinct was dashed, was that she was embarrassed to be caught in his rooms, in his presence. Any of the times she had spent time with him had been in his classroom or rarely, in his personal rooms. He had never escorted her to or from the building, they had never taken a meal together in the Great Hall, and to his knowledge, no one but her children and Bilbo knew she was here.

Which of course meant Minerva knew, and if she knew, the staff knew. If her kids knew, the student body knew. He might as well write it over the lake in fireworks from the Weasley's. "Hermione Weasley is friends with Severus Snape."

If that's what you could call it.

And he certainly wasn't going to review his thoughts of her staying in his rooms, even if it was only in the living room. After all, he was her daughter's professor. She was married. That would be rather uncouth.

But the words out her mouth spoke her true concerns. Their mutual reputation and that of her children. It did not seem to bother her where she was so much as what everyone would think of where she was.

"Sit. Have a cup. I must leave soon to go and join the miscreants in the hall but I can safely escort you out. And I shan't say a word."

Hermione deflated a bit as he spoke. Of course he would be able to leave the castle without being seen. And it was stupid of her to think that professors never had company in their quarters.

He never had company, right? Oh, it was too early for those thoughts. Tea. She needed tea.

"That does smell awfully good."

He slid the pot toward her and Summoned a cup beside it.

As he poured her a cup, Hermione took in him solemn expression as he gracefully a bit of sugar and cream. He was almost too calm, considering the situation. She had a feeling he was nervous too. He just didn't become a spastic blabbermouth like she did. It was evident who was the spy.

"So…long day today?" _God, Hermione, you are so lame. Just shut up and drink your tea so he can kick you out._

He leaned back almost imperceptibly into his chair. "Not particularly. I have class shortly, and another directly after lunch. You could return this evening, if you wish. Unless you enjoy being a magical firstie."

She smiled. His teasing told her all was well between them. "No, can't have that. I'd have to call on you every time I needed a potion brewed or to brush my hair and then where would we be?"

_iHermione Jean, that almost sounded flirtatious. You had better get yourself out of here and quick. The smoke is doing things to your brain._

"You use magic on your hair?"

"Yeah, well…" she indicated her hair and its bushiness.

"I see."

"So yes, I'd love to come buy later. I'll go home and freshen up, run some errands and check on Crooks and be back. How's that?"

"That would be acceptable. Class dismisses as two."

She finished her cup, returning it to the desk and made to follow him out of the room.

"Come here," he commanded and she blushed as little as she stepped up to him, not knowing what to expect. She felt foolish as he tapped his wand on her head and she felt the running egg sensation that she knew meant she had been Disillusioned.

Hermione followed close on his heels as he made his way through the castle, and then opened the front door as though he were surveying the front lawn, giving her enough time to sneak through.

"See ya later," she told him.

He nodded once and shut the door.

When Hermione once again approached his classroom door, it was with an air of resignation and a note clutched in her hand.

"You know you are expected, Mrs. Weasley. There is no need to linger at the door. I promise it will not bite Muggle-borns. Now."

A fleeting smirk crossed her face before she took a deep breath. As her mama would say, it was time to put her big girl panties on.

"It will be Ms. Granger within a month, I assume."

If she would have known how comical Severus looked with a look of pure shock and surprise, she would have strived to surprise him earlier. Both eyebrows were buried in his hairline, eyes Muppet wide and his mouth open in a retort that never came. Hermione just wordlessly handed him the note, letting it explain itself.

She knew the contents almost by heart. Ron was only loquacious in person. He had never developing his writing skills, with her doing a good portion of his schoolwork. The note was short, and to the point. Hermione almost mouthed along as Severus read, the words explaining that he knew she would be happier one her own, that the kids needed more than he could offer. He wanted to let her go while she was still 'young and beautiful' and she would make another bloke very happy. Honestly, it was probably one of the better break-up letters Hermione had heard about.

It was still hard to fill the void in her chest that was Ron. He was constant and familiar to her and she knew the change wouldn't come easy. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who wouldn't be caught in the middle, like Harry, and someone who wouldn't say 'I told you' like her parents. So she kept her appointment with Severus.

Who was probably just going to say 'I told you so' but it was so typical of her, it didn't bother her as much for some face was a jovial as it had ever been. You could still see that he was a typically pleasant fellow, even now when he wore such a serious expression. Many women found him appealing, but was it just for his fame and connections? Did people actually get tWas she sucked in by his charm as well? Did she miss the signs along the way pointing to danger, saying 'Keep out!'?.

Handing her back the letter with comment, he simply asked her with his usual sarcastic undertone, "Would you like to brew something today or sit here and reminisce?"

Out came the breath she was holding. "Brewing sounds wonderful."

"I'm pleased to see your priorities are in order. It will be good to see if your magic has returned enough to allow potion making. Please retrieve the frozen Ashwinder eggs and some fluxweed."

"Amortentia?" she asked while heading to the cupboard.

"Seems appropriate."

"Bastard."

"Typically," he answered without rancor and finished heating the cauldron.

The bantering with Severus served its purpose and made Hermione focus on her present, and her future. Not what could be, or what was going to happen. i_Que sera, sera/i_, she reminded herself. _Whatever will be, will be. But you will be a right useless witch if you don't practice and pay attention._

They brewed together mostly in silence, with Hermione occasionally interjecting what was one her mind. "I hope the kids don't take it to hard" or "You don't think Ron will want the house, do you?" Severus would give her a short reply and then lead her back to the potion at hand .If she was like himself, she would think best with her hands kept busy. And truthfully, it was very helpful for her to be able to just process. Take in the jumbled mess that was her current life and sort it into neat piles in her mind.

Of course Ron wouldn't want the house. She chose it, after all, and he was never there. They could share custody of the children, and they would be understandably upset but she knew they would be alright in the end. Finances could be evenly split as they both contributed, or she could buy out his portion of the home. She wouldn't need child support. Anyone who chose not to speak to her because of it wasn't really a friend to begin with. Everything would turn out fine.

She would turn out fine.

And dammit, this potion was going to turn out fine too or she wasn't Hermione Granger.

Severus had been reaching around to grab the stirring rod as Hermione came to this revelation. With a sudden straightening of her posture and look of resolution on her face, he was momentarily concerned that she was going to start to rant about her soon to be ex. But she simply threw herself into the brewing process with a furor and kept her thoughts to herself. He finished retrieving the rod and began to stir.

Hermione, sensing his presence, felt a different sort of awareness. Suddenly, it felt like she had a sixth Severus sense, and was keenly aware at all times of his location around the room. It made her feel a bit anxious, so she tried to brush it off as a product of the day. There wasn't anything that her daughter's teacher should be making her feel. It was just Professor Snape after all.

When the potion was finally complete, Severus asked her if she dared to smell it, challenging the traits of her House.

With only a moment's hesitation, she grabbed the vial and gave it a whiff. "Parchment, as usual. And not really grass so much as herbs. No toothpaste though, that's a relief. I guess things are changing quicker than I thought."

"It would seem so," he answered, in a queerly pensive voice. "Would you care some tea? I can brew another pot of what we had this morning, and celebrate your being a magical second year now."

Hermione laid a hand in his proffered elbow. "That would be wonderful."

* * *

><p>The next morning started off as her mornings usually did. Cup of tea, hot shower, feed the cat. But instead of 'get presentable' she opted for 'stay in comfy pajamas and indulge in a bit of wallowing.' Ice cream for breakfast, detective novel for entertainment, and she wasn't even going to think about dusting the mantle piece or making her bed.<p>

She was going to curl up, and make the best of her day. She wasn't going to think about anything. Not the divorce, not Ron, and not Severus.

Not Severus? Why was he coming to her mind? She shouldn't be thinking about him. He was just a good friend. A really good friend, actually. Who was helping her get back on her magical feet, being a listening ear, made her an excellent cup of tea, let her stay when she needed someone, was being a role model and mentor towards her children…and then it came to her.

She was in so much trouble.


	10. Chapter 10

Tardy again, had a fabulous cookie swap here in the Cybrokat household. We are now all partaking in homemade cookies, pizza, and mulled wine. You're jealous. :)

**C****hapter 10**

"Harry, I'm going to be fine, I still love you and Ginny and the kids. I'm not going anywhere and neither is he. I'm sure we can still tolerate each other's presence, we just aren't in love anymore."

Her best friend frowned on the couch in her living room. Breaking it to Harry was possibly going to be harder than breaking it to the children.

"But you two have always been together. Is there something Gin and I can do?"

"We haven't always been together. And no, I don't think there is. We took some tie apart to think, and honestly, that's the happiest I've been. It just wasn't working. I like my home life; he likes to be out and about. I read, he plays Quidditch. I know they say opposites attract but at least in magnets they have magnetism in common. I think that's more than you can say for us. We just never have anything to talk about, and we're moving in two completely different directions. We fell out of love, if that's even what we were in in the first place."

Harry was aghast. "If that's even what you were in?"

Hermione was silent and just kind of shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder. But look, it's been a few weeks already. We didn't want to tell anyone until we told the kids. What will be, will be. The final papers should be here anytime."

"That was quick," said Harry, surprised. Divorces were not unheard of in their world but they weren't nearly as common as with Muggles, so Harry didn't have much experience.

"It helped that we practically live separate lives anyway. He has his Quidditch assets and I have my patents. We both have our Ministry stipend. The only big thing was the house and we agreed I would keep it in lieu of child support since I will have majority custody of the kids. Ron will have them two days of each break and two weeks in the summer, if he's not busy. The paperwork was all drawn up in an afternoon."

Harry's frown returned. "So much to make a marriage and so little to tear it apart."

"It's okay, Harry," said Hermione with a grin. "Mommy and Daddy still love you."

"Oh, shut it," he replied but she could see him fighting a smile.

"So that's it?"

"Yes. That's it. Voila. All said and done. I am now Hermione Granger, single mother of two kids, homeowner , and divorcee."

"And Mr. Weasley?"

"Was pretty accommodating," Hermione told Severus as she practiced some fourth year charms. "He wasn't real concerned with visitation or anything, and that was the biggest thing that I was worried about."

"Visitation?"

"With the children. He's a good man, but he's a guy who probably should have kids. He's never really taken an interest in them, surprisingly enough," she told him with a hint of melancholy in her voice. She had imagined he would take to fatherhood like Arthur's rubber duck to water, but he hadn't given up his life on the road long enough to really bond with them. It wasn't that he hated his children, he just never really got to know them.

Severus frowned, but stayed silent. Something was obviously bothering him.

"Is it okay, Severus? That I'm divorced? I mean, you don't think I'm taboo or anything, right?"

He arched his eyebrow. "That's a ridiculous notion. I think so such thing." After another moment of silence, he added, "I just find it odd that Weasley would not fight for his children."

His tone of voice let her know there was more than her children he was thinking about. She knew enough about his own childhood to get an idea of what he referred to.

Impulsively, she reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "Don't worry about them. I'm not. They still have a great role model."

He looked down to where their hands were joined. Her pretty, pale fingers stained green from earlier potions work, over own, scarred and stained with ink. He allowed himself to relish in her touch for a moment, allowed himself to dream for just a moment, before removing it, giving hers a brief pat, and changing the conversation.

Hermione knew she had made him a bit uncomfortable, but she hoped it was in the 'stretching outside your box' kind of way, and not in the 'Madam, please desist' kind of way. He didn't say anything, so she assumed she was safe. And she wasn't going to think about how that brief contact made her feel. If she didn't admit it, she had plausible deniability.

Because of course she wouldn't be developing feeling for Severus. He had been her instructor. Ron hated him. He had both of her kids in his class. He was vile…and mean…and sarcastic…a complete social pariah…and he was looking at her in a way that make her heart flip-flop.

So many questions. Too few answers. For now, she needed to focus.

The vial she was Summoning wavered and wobbled a bit before it crashed to the ground.

"It appears as though Accio is beyond your abilities at the moment, Ms. Granger."

Hermione shivered. "Merlin, please don't call me that. You make me feel like I'm eleven. Hermione, remember? Just Hermione."

"Severus, then."

"Okay. Severus." Her mouth rolled over the name like fresh treacle, and she saw him look at her oddly. It must have seemed strange to him as well. Was she the first student of his to use his given name? Surely not.

She gave him a reassuring smile and turned to successfully Summon another vial. "Voila!"

As the afternoon progressed, one thing became clear to Hermione. Their dynamic had shifted. Something was different between them. Suddenly, the silences weren't so awkward, and she found herself standing so near to him that she could smell the soap from his morning shower. She lightly shook her head. She wasn't married but…she just shouldn't. It was a bad idea.

Right?

Her old professor, her daughter's professor, she was a recent divorcee…the ink had barely dried on her papers and here was thinking about asking him –

"Would you like to come over this evening?"

They both looked at each other, stunned. Had she really just said that? Instantly she felt so young, so naïve, inviting him over for dinner like he was an old schoolmate and not Severus Snape. Her friends would think she was absolutely insane.

But, she told herself, Ron wasn't what made her happy. Harry wouldn't make her happy. Only Hermione could make her happy and apparently Hermione wanted Severus over for dinner that evening.

"I have…" he began to respond. The moment hung in the air as he looked at the woman before him. How could she make him feel so old and so young all together? Circe, had anyone ever just asked him for his company, outside of Albus and Minerva? Of course Molly always invited him for the evening meal when they had an Order meeting, but he knew this was not the same.

And here he was ready to run. He always ran.

He was sick of running.

"…no plans this evening."

She quirked her lips. "I have a brand new draughts set I purchased. Maybe we could break it in."

Why was it anything she said suddenly carried an inappropriate connotation?

"I could never really get into chess," she added by way of explanation.

"I play both," Severus told her with an almost solemn air.

Hermione smiled and made her way to the door. "You'll probably kick my arse. My house at seven?"

He nodded. "How will I know how to find it?"

"You have my address on file," she cheekily told him before letting the door swing shut behind her.

She didn't get more than inside her door before almost hyperventilating. What had she been thinking? Inviting Severus here? To her home? Right after she got divorced?

What would they talk about?

Was he going to want a meal? Would he think she was inviting him over for a more physical appreciation of thanks? Oh holy cricket, she never said why she wanted him over, did she?

And come to think of it, why did she want him over?

Hermione didn't really have a good explanation herself except that she just did. She enjoyed his company. He was good to her, he was good to her kids, what more could she ask for? If she wanted to spend her evening in the company of a friend, a male friend, then she was going to. Ron had no hold on her anymore. She could do as she pleased.

And she was going to go to the market for something for dinner. She at least needed chocolate.

* * *

><p>A knock sounded on her door at five to seven. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Hermione opened her front door.<p>

"You're early," she told him.

"I believe I taught you that to be early is to be on time."

"And to be on time is to be late," she finished. "I remember. And I was never one who was late to class."

"This is true. May I come in?"

She hurriedly stepped out of the doorway. "Of course, of course."

Severus stepped inside and paused a moment to get his bearings. A tastefully simple home with wooden floors, earth tones, a roaring fire to take off the chill of late November, and a delectable smell.

"Dinner smells delicious."

"Thank you," she said with a blush. Having a different man in her house was throwing her off kilter. "I made a light salad and Bolognese. My mother's chocolate cake for dessert. I know it's not typical Hogwarts fare."

"And thank Morgana for that. Meals outside the castle walls are rare and far between. I welcome the change."

Dinner was quickly served and was a quiet affair. Hermione wasn't sure how to break the silence and Severus was comfortable enough with it not to be concerned.

Hermione suggested bringing dessert into the living room where she could show off her new purchase.

A rug with squares was laid out in front of the fireplace. "Shall we play? You'll want the black side I wager." Hermione sat down on a soft pillow on the white side and waited.

"You expect me to play there?"

"Well, this way when you kick my arse, I'll have less of a fall. Plus, we have a place for cake. Now take a seat. Or are you telling me you are too elderly to sit on the floor?"

"I am quite limber, I assure you, Madam."

Hermione smirked. "It's alright, Severus," she said, making as though to stand. "I'm sure the children have a standard set somewhere."

He scowled at her before removing his jacket and taking a seat on the blasted floor pillow. "Of course I will be black."

_But you look awfully good in white_, Hermione thought, thankfully keeping her mouth shut this time. His crisp white shirt called to her like forbidden cheesecake. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't look away. Clearing her throat, she told him to make the first move, and tried to pretend it wasn't innuendo.

It was clear he was a superior player, though neither was brilliant. The cake was slowly savored as the game progressed, forcing them to reach farther and farther across the rug to move their pieces, until Hermione was almost permanently on all fours.

"So how are the children?"

"As well as can be expected."

Hermione's eyes dimmed a fraction. "Do they seem to be taking everything alright?"

His shoulders gave a short rise and fall. "You would be a better judge than I. How is single life?"

"You tell me, I just arrived," she said with a laugh.

His eyes narrowed. "Anything would be better than being saddled with that ginger twit, I imagine."

"Hey, we all make mistakes and mine has been corrected."

Severus moved and she could see one of her pieces in jeopardy. She quickly moved it away.

"I see he seems to have moved out rather expeditiously."

Hermione gazed around the living room. Everything was hers, from the furnishings to the flooring. "He didn't have much here."

Severus was on his knees, reaching across to capture her piece. "Smart man. Keeping his options open."

"And just what does that mean?" Hermione asked with one hand on her hip.

He looked up to her. "I doubt he wished to be saddled with the burdens of matrimony."

"You mean you think he had some bimbo on the side?" she asked, as though the thought had just occurred to her. Severus thought sadly that is probably just had. Granger wasn't the type to suspect a double cross.

"Wizards often keep a sensible woman in the home and a beautiful witch on the side."

Hermione's mouth hung open. Of course she knew some men did these things but certainly not Ron. Of course not Ron. There was only a slight chance Ron would do something like that. She doubted Ron would be that callous. Sometimes Ron thought before he took action.

She was almost certain Ron had a mistress.

How could she be so foolish.

Severus watched as her face went from gobsmacked to crestfallen as the realization washed over her. It happened to witches every day but it was different when it happened to you. It was almost different when it happened to someone you care about. And he knew, brilliant idea or not, he was beginning to care for this witch. This naïve, brilliant, silly witch. Cooker of Italian food, mother of two dunderheads he told himself he hated teaching, and horrible draughts player.

He continued to watch as she schooled her face into a look of complacency, and reached across the carpet to move a white piece right into his trap.

"That doesn't mean another wizard wouldn't want you as his beautiful witch, Hermione."

He slowly spoke her name, waving it through the smoke and flames of the fire, raking it over the coals. She paused and looked at him, almost nose to nose as they both kneeled over her rug. Before logic and reason and restraint caught up with her, her Gryffindor mind took over and their lips met.

His head instinctively tipped to the side in the long forgotten dance of courtship. Her hand held the back of his head for just a moment, fingers threaded through his hair before she released him.

"Chocolate," she blurted. "You had a bit of chocolate. Just there."

He felt her fingers ghost across his cheek. "Thank you for not spitting on a rag. I understand that is how most mothers handle it."

"I'll try to restrain myself," she told him, and sat back down on her pillow as though nothing had occurred to cause the flush in her features. "Your turn?"

"I believe it is," he said as he pushed the rug aside to lean across and brand her unsuspecting lips with a searing kiss.

Hermione found her arms full of Potions master as she leaned back on her pillow and clutched the oh-so-tempting white shirt in her hands. As much as she wanted to rip it off him, surprising even herself, she knew there were some things she was not ready for.

But this – this kissing by the fireplace, sweet soft breaths of chocolate and wine, fine linen, soft rubs, and bonding over intellect and interests – this she was ready for.

It was several hours before Severus found his way back to the castle, feeling like a truant pupil out after curfew. He half expected Minerva to be waiting at the main entrance with a switch and a scowl.

But he found his way to his rooms without interruption, and for the first time in memory, Severus fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Perhaps this witch would be worth it.


	11. Chapter 11

Note: Sorry about the fantastic butchering did to chapter 10. I think I have it in order now, but if a part is still wonky, please let me know. It ate parts of the chapter and regurgitated them in other places, then refused to properly upload or copy/paste the sections.

And now I'm going back to making reindeer out of my 10mo old's hands and feet. :)

**Chapter Eleven**

Rose was once again sitting on her hands. She was in her last class of the day and then it was Christmas break. The school would be missed but she was looking forward to visiting with her parents and Crookshanks. Christmas Eve and the following morning also beckoned with their tinsel, bows, and candies.

As soon as Professor Snape dismissed class, Rose hurriedly stashed her Potions kit as quick as possible without breaking or spilling anything. As the items were being packed away, she caught a glimpse of the professor. She didn't know why but to her, he looked a bit sad. The thought, however, was fleeting as she saw Scorpius getting ready to leave and rushed up to tell him goodbye for the holidays in case she didn't see him on the train.

At home the following day, Hermione was freshening the house and baking up a storm. A raspberry tea ring, double chocolate chip cookies, fresh bread and more were coming out of the kitchen. It was these times she was thankful for both being able to stay at home and magic.

Ron had picked up the kids from the train and they spent the night with him but were due home at anytime. Christmas would be with her and then New Year's with their father. She was supposed to have them the whole vacation, but since she started working and seeing Severus, she had time with them she knew Ron didn't have. Concessions had to be made and she was sure they missed each other.

It wasn't long before the kids came through the door, all chaos and chatter. Ron excused himself quickly, mentioning something about the Burrow. It was simply too odd to be together at Christmastime but not be a family anymore.

The children put away their trunks while telling Hermione all about the last few days and the train ride home. Rose kept emphasizing just how much she was going to miss Scorpius. She wondered if she shared that with her father too. She doubted it.

Back in the living room, the kids immediately noticed the draughts set and began a game, Rose on the white and Hugo on the black.

After winning three straight games, Rose began to be a sore loser, telling her brother that she was letting him win. She was older, so of course she was letting win.

"No, you're not, Rosy," Hugo told her, calling her by her childhood name. "Professor Snape gave me some strategy books to read. He said I had a mind for calculation. I read them just like he said I should and I can tell where you're going to move."

"That's crazy, Hugh," she answered with his own childhood nickname. "I don't even know where I'm going to move next."

"Well, see, there are set patterns for each opening. If you move-"

"Hey, Mum," Rose interrupted. "Do you know why Professor Snape was sad yesterday?"

This caught Hermione's attention back from where she was just enjoying watching her kids together. "No, I don't. Why do you think he was sad?"

"I don't know. He just looked bummed out after class. Kind of that far away look you get sometimes. Isn't he looking forward to seeing his family for Christmas too?"

Hermione had a sad smile for her overly observant daughter. Rose was as observant of people as Hugo was patterns. "I don't think he has any family, honey."

"No one is going to bake him cookies?" asked Hugo. Hugo was at the wonderful age where he was showing the man he would grow up to be, but still retained some of his childlike innocence. And he was always concerned with making sure he got his share of the Christmas baking.

"I'm sure the house-elves will bake some," Hermione told her son.

Rose frowned. "But that's not the same, Mum. You know Nana says the best cookies are baked with love. And…it's just not the same."

"We could bring him some cookies," offered Hugo.

"Or we could just have him over for dinner," said Rose. "Could we, Mum? I know some people think he's mean and everything but he's been really nice helping us this term. He's probably the only person in the whole castle. That's not right. We have plenty of food, right?"

Hugo's shy voice piped up, "He can have my spot at the table."

Hermione's heart melted. "Come here, you two, Mum needs a hug." After giving both of her kids a squeeze, she promised she would send him an owl inviting him to the holiday meal.

* * *

><p>Severus was not sure how he came to this.<p>

He had only seen Hermione once or twice since the night she invited him home, outside of the classroom. A little kissing and a lot of talking transpired between them, but mostly he was still helping her back on her magical feet, and tutoring her daughter, with Hugo in tow.

Then the first day of the holidays came her owl inviting him to dinner. He had refused, of course. No pity invitation was needed, he was perfectly content spending Christmas with the elves and the peace and quiet, catching up on grading. For the first time since the war, he was behind, thanks to Hermione and her brood of Weasleys.

He was at his desk, pretending to be contented, when the knock came. With it brought three different types of cookies, two kids, one pretty witch, and none would accept no as an answer.

So here he was, in her tinseled dining room, eating roast turkey and stuffing, looking at the biggest pile of sweets not created by a house-elf.

"I don't know, Hugo, you ask him."

Hugo furiously shook his head at his sister.

"Mum says if you don't ask, you'll never know the answer," his sister admonished.

The boy wearily looked from his sister, to the man seated across from him in his usual spot, to his mum, back to the man. Steadying himself with a very deep breath, he asked the professor, "How come you always wear black?"

The eyebrow of the professor rose. "I suppose because I always have," answered Severus.

"Would you ever wear something different?" asked Rose.

He shrugged. "Should the occasion call for it."

"Well, its Christmas," Rose stated. "I think it calls for it."

Severus' eyes opened wide as the end of a wand brandished by his student was pointed at him. With a sharply spoken word clearly inherited from her mother, his jacket quickly changed to a deep emerald green.

"What do you think, Mum?"

Hermione was trying not to laugh at his predicament. "Very nice, Rose, but it's polite to ask him first."

"But he would have said no."

"True, but still ask."

"Yes, Mum," said a chastised Rose before bringing the desserts over to the table.

"Just be lucky you didn't try this when I was in school. We couldn't even do magic at home until we were seventeen," Hermione told her horrified children.

Afterwards came time for gifts and time around the Christmas tree. No Martha McWitch instant perfect Christmas tree for this family. Instead it was covered from head to toe in bulbs of glitter and construction paper from her favorite little witch and wizard.

"I let each of them open a gift on Christmas Eve, and they pick out one for me too," Hermione explained. "It's a tradition from when I was little. I knew you were going to be here, so I had them pick you out something. I hope you don't mind, or feel obligated. We knew you wouldn't know."

Severus cleared his throat. "Actually, I brought a gift for each of you."

It was Hermione's turn to be surprised as Hugo's voice piped up. "Professor Snape brought gifts?"

"In this instance, it is permissible for you to call me Severus."

"Professor Severus brought gifts?" Hugo corrected to his mother's amusement.

Even Severus had a bit of a smile. "You must have taught them well."

"I'll let you each open the gift from your dad and Severus, okay? He'll have one from me and one from you guys, and I'll have one from him and one from you so it will be even."

"Great! Two gifts! This is already the best Christmas," said Hugo.

Rose chimed in, "Maybe you guys should have gotten divorced sooner."

"From the mouth of babes," murmured Severus out of their earshot.

Once all the gifts were sorted, it was decided the guest would go first.

Severus took both gaily wrapped gifts carefully. He read the first tag. _To Professor Snape. Love, Rose and Hugo." _He could tell by the writing each child had signed their own name.

"Open it already!" demanded Rose.

"Do you need to count, Miss Weasley?"

Rose let out a dramatic sigh. "I'll be good."

Inside the rectangle box, he pulled out a dark green Muggle t-shirt. "World's Greatest Teacher," he read aloud. "Ha." He set the gift aside.

Hugo looked at his mother with sad eyes. "He doesn't like it?"

"I simply expected for once to receive something with a genuine sentiment, not mockery."

Tears welled up in Hugo's eyes as he got up and ran from the room. Instantly, Rose was on her feet. She stared at the ceiling for a moment and Hermione could almost hear her counting. Finally she simply told him, "That wasn't a very nice thing to say," before going to comfort her brother.

Hermione was torn between seeing to Hugo and talking to Severus. Since Rose was with Hugo, she opted for the latter. She sat herself on the couch beside Severus, telling him, "They _were_ being genuine."

He glared at her. "Insipid, mocking drivel."

"You haven't received something like that before." It was said as a statement, and received no answer. "Well, let me tell you something about my kids, Severus Snape. First, you'll note one is a Hufflepuff. They are known for?"

She still received no answer.

"Loyalty and friendship. The other is a Gryffindor. Bravery and courage. Both have strong ties to friendships, and mean what they say. Neither have given you a reason to doubt their sincerity. You've spent time with them, you've helped them. They _care_ about you. They must take after their mother."

Severus sat with his arms crossed on the couch, quite simply pouting at being called on the carpet. "You have no way of knowing their true motive."

"Severus…please just accept that we like you and go apologize."

"I'm not apologizing."

Hermione put on her Mum Face. "You just made my son cry. Add to the fact you were wrong in the first place, and that means you're going to go apologize. Go in there, put on the shirt and tell him you're sorry."

"No."

Hermione counted to herself before coming to a decision. She took his hand in hers before telling him, "Severus, I really care about you. I'd love to have you around more often, and see where this goes. But accepting me means accepting my kids. And you won't always get it right. I've been a parent for fourteen years and I don't always get it right. But when you're wrong, you need to show them how to be a good man by saying you're sorry. They'll respect you more for it. Otherwise," she paused for courage, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

He sat so still Hermione briefly wondered if he'd been Petrified. "I'll see to him."

As the minutes passed by, Hermione became worried but since she didn't hear screaming, she forced herself to stay. Soon, Rose came out, followed by a red-eyed but smiling Hugo and a not smiling Severus wearing his new t-shirt.

Seeing the three of them twisted Hermione's heart with equal parts love and sadness. Her little brood was so different now, but the changes Severus made for her and her children filled her with a new kind of joy.

It was also an incredible turn on.

She wondered what he looked like _without_ the shirt.

"It's okay, Mum, Professor Severus explained people don't like him much so I told him I like him and we can be friends now."

With a relieved smile, she told him she was glad to hear that and asked Severus if he was going to open his next gift.

He opened his new draughts set from Hermione, complete with the rug.

"In case we need to play at your place," she told him with a suggestive look.

Rose and Hugo opened their gifts from their father, pulling out matching jerseys for the Chudley Canons with "Weasley" on the back.

Both kids were rather quiet, giving platitudes about what a nice gift it was, and that they would tell Ron thank you. Hermione made a grimace, knowing neither child was as wild about the sport as their father was. But he tried and they all seemed to acknowledge it was the thought that counted.

Severus wisely remained silent.

Rose then opened her gift from Severus. "Does it contain a passing grade?" Rose joked as she opened the small box. Inside was a delicate pair of marquis cut emerald earrings, surrounded by a silver Celtic knot. She gasped. "Slytherin colors! Scorpius will love these! I'm going to go try them on!" And she ran off.

"I'm sure somewhere in there was a thank you," Hermione laughed. "How on Earth did you know what to get her?"

"I have been teaching and observing her age since before you were born."

"Good point." This time Hermione wisely stayed silent, thinking back to what Harry had told her about him. Rose was not the first redhead wanting to be friends with a Slytherin.

Hugo didn't wait for his sister to return before tearing into his own gift. It contained an elegant Wizarding chess set, with jade and obsidian pieces.

"Cool! We can play with my set now!"

Severus nodded. "You will need to use them often, and skillfully, so they learn to trust you."

"Thanks, sir!" Hugo jumped up to give his professor a hug as Hermione took a snapshot.

_That will be one for the scrapbook._

"Try it again and I'll break it," Severus growled.

Hermione sniffed. "You'll do no such thing."

Rose came back into the room, sporting her new earrings. "Your turn, Mum!"

"And so it is."

Hermione opened a scarf knitted by Rose that Hugo had charmed a flower on. "It's lovely, thank you!" she told them as she threw it around her shoulders.

She was a bit skeptical about the box from Severus, but he had done well so far.

She needn't have worried.

Inside were the earrings that Rose received, but also a necklace and matching bracelet. "You really didn't need to," she started to say but she was interrupted by Rose.

"We match!"

"We sure do," she told her daughter. "We'll have to go out on a date now."

"With cute Slytherins!" Rose added.

Hermione laughed. "With cute Slytherins. But where would I find one?" she teased. "I doubt Scorpius has a friend for me."

"You can go with Professor Severus," said Hugo with determination. "He's single."

But now Hermione was rolling with her laughter and Severus's not amused face. "We just might have to do that."


	12. Chapter 12

All I want for Christmas is for this site to stop hacking at my chapters. 3 Cybrokat

**Chapter Twelve**

Hermione hated waiting on Ron. The children were both restless after spending long days with their mum. He was going to take them for part of the holidays but kept begging off, saying he would get them tomorrow, then he'd come get them the next day.

It was now New Year's Eve, and Ron was on his last straw. If he didn't come today, there would be no more bending of the rules. They were both new to their altered parental status, but she wasn't going to have the kids not know where they would be.

He finally showed up after dinnertime. Rose and Hugo were playing with the chess set Hugo had received from Severus, so Hermione took the opportunity to quietly usher him into a different room.

"And where have you been?"

"I'm so sorry, 'Mione. The guys have a big party going on for New Years. I ducked out for a bit to get the kids, and I'll drop them off atto Mum's for the night so that I can get back."

Hermione frowned. "And do your parents know this is the plan?"

"Well, no. I figured I'd tell them now. Bit of a surprise. "

"Ron," she admonished, "You've already used them as a babysitters. You hang out with the kids for a change. They never get to see you, and I bet they would love spending New Year's with you."

"But it's just that we've got a few scouts in, and this is the biggest party of the year. It'll just be tonight, I swear."

"Forget it. They will stay with me tonight. I can rent some movies and get popcorn, and we'll have a night in."

Ron sat in one of the dining room chairs. "But don't you have plans tonight?"

Hermione sat in the chair across from him. "No, of course not."

"Oh," hedged Ron.

"What do you know?"

"Well, nothing…" he answered in a shady voice.

"Spill it. I've known you since before you had facial hair, Ronald. Out with it."

Ron shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "I saw Snape was over the other night."

"You were spying on my house?"

"Yes. No. Well, kind of, but not really! See, I came over to see how the kids were, if they liked the gifts, maybe to see if they wanted to come over. But I saw he was over, so I left."

Hermione was enraged at his breach of her privacy. They weren't together anymore, by his choice. He couldn't just come and go as he pleased, and he certainly wasn't allowed to keep tabs on when who she had someone over, male or otherwise. And apparently she needed to set him straight on the children as well.

"You can't just pick them up when you want. From now on, your days are on your days. Anything different will have to be discussed and agreed upon between us, and there will not be changes. Second, how dare you just come and peek through the windows? I am not your wife anymore, and I do not answer to you!"

Ron held up his hands in surrender. "I know that, honest. Look, I was just curious, and it won't happen again. And, I dunno. I couldn't come in. I had to leave. You guys just looked so…"

"So what?"

"…So happy. And I wasn't a part of it." Ron grew quiet and rubbed at an old scratch in the table. "Is that what I've been missing all these years?"

A bit of Hermione's anger left her as she realized the conclusion Ron was coming to. His family had moved on, and largely without him. It wasn't that he was malicious or negligent. He was just absent. There was a separate life He led a separate life, completely different from hers. A part of him, she thought, wanted the life she led, but she knew most of it was whimsy, thinking or remembering his own home growing up. Ron was a great guy who should have just never had children.

"Yes," she told him. "It is."

The silence hung like dusty cobwebs. Ron sat at the dining room table, twisting the edge of a rolled cloth napkin.

"He's good for you guys. Snape, I mean."

"Ron, it's way too early to be thinking about anything like that. The ink has barely dried on our papers. We were together for fifteen years. I am not and will not be seen as the kind of woman who leaps from one man's bed to another. If I were interested in a relationship with someone, I would have the decency to wait a while."

Ron shrugged. "Just think about it. The kids seem to like him, for some reason. He seemed to like them, which is also odd. What was he smiling about?"

"Oh, you probably caught when Hugo called him Professor Severus."

"He didn't get mad?" asked Ron, surprised.

"No, he invited the kids to call him Severus. I just don't think Hugo was quite ready."

"Wow," said Ron, impressed. "He'd never let us do that."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her ex. "Well, they treat him with a little more respect, I think. Now go head to your party. I need to make some plans with the kids."

Hermione ushered Ron to the door, hoping she could get him out before the kids noticed he was there.

"Seriously though, if you decide anything, don't worry about me. I think it's a smashing plan. In fact, there is someone I might be getting serious with."

"Oh really?" asked Hermione, one hand on the door as he was leaving. "And just when did this happen?"

"About two months ago. I got with her just before things were final between us. It was just chemical."

"Oh, so, right when I was helping Rose with her tutoring and mourning the end of our marriage and sorting out how to break it to the kids, you were out hooking up with some bimbo?"

"Well, you were seeing Snape!"

Hermione's back straightened. "I was not seeing Snape! But you can bet if I want to, I will now!"

"Good! And she isn't a bimbo! Or a git like Snape! Her name is–-FUCK, HERMIONE!" Ron screamed as the door slammed in his face with an audible and sickening crack. "You broke my nose!"

"So use Episkey!" Hermione yelled back before turning into her home to find both kids standing in the doorway, Hugo still holding a wriggling rook.

"Mum? Was that Dad?" asked Hugo.

Rose stood dejected. "We're not seeing him tonight, are we?"

Hermione put on her happy face, hoping it didn't look too false. "Your dad has some other things to do. What do you think about a party with just the three of us? I'll make eggnog and some cookies. Maybe we can make a special dinner."

Hugo asked his mum, "Can Professor Severus come?"

"Oh, honey, I'm not sure if he has plans for tonight."

Rose brightened. "But you can ask."

"I'll Floo him, okay?"

The mood in the house was lifted, and the kids did a little dance in the background as Hermione Flooed Severus' rooms, pleased he had added her to his connections.

Severus wasn't sure why exactly he wanted to join the chaos in Hermione's household, but he did know that as his brain was thinking of excuses, his mouth said yes, he would be right over.

"Bring Butterbeer!"" shouted a happy Rose behind her mum.

* * *

><p>After a short trip to Hogsmeade, Severus came through the door with Butterbeer for the kids and a bottle of champagne for him and Hermione. She was pulling more baked goods from the oven. He wondered what it was about the holidays and cooking. Often students mentioned going home to have the Christmas goodies. He hadn't experienced that much. His mother had never been one to cook, and the house-elves of Hogwarts always cooked in an abundance, regardless of the day. There was a different feeling about fresh cookies made just for you, and just for the season.<p>

"I made you your own batch of the snickerdoodles you ate so much of at Christmas, Severus, and some chocolate chip for the kids."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he told her.

She laughed and put another pan in the oven. "Of course you don't. Well, they are here, just in case _someone_ decides they'd like some."

Severus followed her into the living room, grabbing a warm cookie on his way.

"You're in blue!" Rose announced.

Hermione and Hugo both looked at Severus' attire. She had admittedly completely missed it when she answered the door, too flustered after her argument with her ex. He looked rather dashing. The clothes were similar to what he normally wore, but the deep blue was a nice change.

"And so I am," Severus told her.

Hermione smiled at him and tugged on the ends of his jacket. "You look great."

"As do you," he answered. "And the weasels."

Hugo looked indignant. "I am not a weasel!"

"He's teasing, Hugo," answered Rose, "And thank you, Professor."

Both kids had dressed up like they would have on Christmas, expecting to be out celebrating with their dad. Instead of having them changing, Hermione had dressed up a bit as well, knowing she didn't need to tell Severus to dress formally. Now they could have a small, elegant party.

The television was on so that they could see the ball drop, a novelty for Severus, and a tradition for the rest. New Year's resolutions were discussed. Hugo wanted to beat Severus at chess, Rose wanted to pass her classes— – and maybe get to be friends with Scorpius—and Severus just wanted to make it through another year.

"I bet there will be a few changes in store for you," said Hermione with a wink.

Flirtation was still new to him. It was odd having a witch wink at him and toss her hair. He knew what it meant, it just wasn't usually meant for him. But that didn't mean he was going to let it pass by. He _was_ the head of Slytherin.

"Perhaps for you as well," he answered in the silky rumble he could tell made her toes curl. "And what is your resolution? To be a housewife?"

"Pft, I think not. I'm not sure, actually," she told him.

"To read every book ever published?"

"As if I could," she answered wistfully.

"Burn some more cookies?"

"The cookies!"

Jumping off the couch, she made it just in time to save the batch.

"That's okay, Mum, I like them a bit darker," Hugo told her, holding out his plate.

When she had sat back down and her heart rate had slowed, Severus again needled her on her resolution.

"Collect dust bunnies? Eventually be able to stop pestering me for tutoring? Finally stop moping about?"

She huffed. "As if you're one to talk! I'll have you know I was a very successful spell researcher with several patents in my name, and I could be again in a heartbeat."

"I highly doubt it," he said with his drawl.

"Fine! That's what I'll do then. I'll have two new patents by the end of the year."

He just smirked at her from the other side of the couch.

"Three then!"

"If you get three patents by the end of the year, I shall apply to be your house-elf."

"I'm holding you to that!" piped up Rose with, Hugo nodding in agreement.

Shite. He didn't hadn't thought the kids were listening. He knew he would be held to it now, and for the first time, secretly wished she would fail.

Although, being her house-elf might not be a bad position…

It wasn't long before the kids were counting down to the ball dropping. As they neared the end, Hermione grabbed Severus' robes and pulled him around the corner.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"This," she answered and kissed him soundly.

He peeked to where both kids were glued to some pop star's concert on the telly. Seizing the moment, his hands grasped her hair, and he pulled her back in.

Surprised but enthusiastic, she wrapped her arms around him and gave herself over. His warm breath smelled of cinnamon, hers was tinged with champagne. She pressed up against him in a wanton way she hadidn't known she was capable of.

"Stop, stop, stop," she whispered.

He immediately ceased, horror struck.

"The kids," she said. "I _will_ take this too far for my dining room. They'll go to bed soon. Then we can see what happens."

He relaxed somewhat, fear of being rejectedion abated, but as for his desire for her, the coals were merely stoked. But he could be patient when it promised greater rewards.

Once back in the room, her daughter gave her a telling look but wisely kept silent.

Rose and Hugo watched the rest of the New Year's programming. Looking up at the clock, Rose saw it was nearly two in the morning. "Probably time for bed, Hugo."

Looking behind them, both were stunned silent.

Their mum and their professor were fast sleep, a blanket over their laps and her head resting on his. His arm was around her. They appeared to be holding hands.

"I'm not sure if I'm okay with this," said Hugo.

"You will be," said Rose. "For Mum. Just scrub your eyes first. C'mon, let's go to bed before they catch us staring."

Later that morning, Hermione woke with a start. Rubbing the unladylike drool from her cheek, she woke Severus.

"Hmm? What?"

"Severus!" she whispered. "You've got to get up!"

"I see. I shall see myself to the door."

"No, you stupid git, this way."

Severus looked at her, confused as to her meaning.

"My room."

That he understood. "But what about the children? In the morning?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in the darkness. "Are you a wizard, or aren't you? Apparate."

Severus hesitated a moment before an article of clothing hit him in the face. It was her blouse.

He asked no more questions.


	13. Chapter 13

Figured out how to make upload the beta-corrected version of this story! HAHAHA I WIN!. *cough* Which reminds me, thank you, Liongirl, for your beta services once again. 3 And to shuldham for being British, an obvious fault of my own.

There is one chapter following this, and then I feel like there is a bet-fulfilling one shot coming on...

**Chapter 13**

Only the sound of crunching cereal could be heard at breakfast the next morning. Rose and Hugo sat, quickly casting suspicious and inquiring looks at their mum and the dark wizard beside her who was buttering a piece of toast with his head down.

The plan for the morning had been destroyed when Severus went to use the loo in the wee hours of the morning before leaving, only to find an insomniac Rose holding a glass of milk on her way back from the kitchen. Her eyes wide, the glass almost dropped as she took in the form of her very strict, very stern professor shirtless with only his pants on.

She knew where the red marks on one side of his neck had come from, but she was pretty sure the ones on the other side were not from a curling iron.

"Well. See you at breakfast then, Severus," said Rose, hoping the use of his first name would somehow separate his image from the one she held of her teacher. Before he could respond, she went into her room and shut the door.

When Hugo woke up in the morning, late as usual, he walked into the kitchen with blurry eyes and almost sat down before stopping short at the sight of Severus. He eventually sat down and poured himself some cereal, but he had yet to say a word.

Hermione got up and began to bring the dishes to the sink, and Hugo got up to assist her. Both children knew what their chores were over break and the consequences if they weren't completed.

This left Rose and Severus sitting across from each other at the table.

"I wish to apologize for last evening," said Severus somberly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, you didn't mean for us to know," said Rose. "I'm not stupid, sir. Severus. Whatever. Look, if you and my mum have a…a…you know…then just do it properly, alright? Take her out on a date. No sneaking around behind closed doors. It just makes us all look bad, and my mum deserves better."

Rose took her cereal bowl and went around the table to go to the kitchen. She stopped, putting her hand on her teacher's shoulder. "And I think you do too."

Severus didn't appreciate being dictated to by a teen, but her words had merit. He had spent his entire life behind closed doors. Never had he freely walked the streets of Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. It was always in the shadows and around corners that he lurked. If he wanted the outcome of this relationship, liaison, whatever it was with Hermione to be different, than perhaps he needed to act differently.

And it was with a bit of surprise that he realized he did want it to end differently.

Which meant he needed to be different.

"Hermione?" he asked her as he was preparing to leave later that morning, "I believe I wish to court you. Shall we make plans for your earliest convenience, perhaps Saturday next?"

Hermione stood with her head cocked as she took in the man in her doorway, mulling over her options.

The previous night with him in her bed, well, she hadn't experienced a night like that in a long time, if ever. And sleeping with him hadn't been as spur-of-the-moment as it had seemed. She had been telling the truth when she told him that she cared about him. How could she not, with the tender care and thoughtfulness he had quietly shown her and each of her kids?

Ron was a generous lover, but he was so absent and his days were so long. The tether between them had been fraying, and now she could see that she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself. She hadn't wanted to fail.

But this wasn't a failure. Not in the traditional sense. It was a change. A shift. A shedding of her skin. Off with the old, as they say, and welcome in a new year, a new life, and a new Hermione.

And who was this Hermione? Truthfully, she didn't know. Every day brought a new surprise. She was a Hermione who knew how to act a bit sultry, who gave her temperamental old professor the what for and then took him to her bed.

She kind of liked this new woman. This saucy minx who didn't need her husband or any other man to validate her and wasn't afraid to speak up for the things she wanted, even if that man was one of them.

And so she did.

"Saturday would be wonderful," she told Severus, who had just been about to don his cap and leave, thinking she didn't have the heart to tell him that he was a one night stand. He would have understood.

"I have to take the kids to my mom's for the night," she continued, "or she'll never speak to me again. They get at least one night with their Papa and Gigi." At Severus' raised brow of inquiry, she clarified. "Gigi is my mom, Grandma Granger. G.G. But pick me up about six, after I drop off the kids?"

"That would be acceptable. I will see you then. And thank you for your hospitality and the invitation."

She smiled and kissed him goodbye. "Anytime."

The day of their date found Severus standing outside her door, wrapping his scarf around his neck, listening to the shrieks and screams from within.

Apparently, she had not yet brought the children to her parents.

The door opened to reveal a lovely Hermione, dressed in simple yet elegant black robes, with upswept hair and wearing his emeralds. His face twitched upon seeing them. His mark, of a sort, on her conjured an odd twisting in his chest.

"I'm so sorry, we are on our way out right now. Hugo just about blew up the house this afternoon trying a potions experiment after watching _someone_, so we had to scrub down the entire dining room and put things back to rights."

The young Weasley was imitating him? Interesting.

"Shall I wait for you here?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Come along, we'll only be a moment dropping them off."

Snape looked at the three of them. Already going to meet the parents? He felt like he had signed his own death warrant, but he could find no logical reason to turn her offer down.

"As you wish. Our reservations can easily be adjusted."

She grabbed his hand and Rose's, who grabbed Hugo's. It took her a moment to steady her thoughts and firmly focus her mind on her destination. Apparation wasn't something to take lightly on your own, let alone with three people—two minors and one who didn't know the destination. Her magic had only just progressed far enough to try it out, and now she needed to bring a whole group. But she was Hermione Granger.

Destination. Determination. Deliberation.

Once the feeling of being squashed faded, Severus opened his eyes to see a modest two-story brownstone. Both kids ran up the walk with screams and laughter. As the door opened, her mother appeared and hugged both kids before hugging Hermione. The short woman looked up at the man outside her door. "Like one as well, would you?"

"I believe an introduction would be sufficient. Perhaps a handshake."

Her mum laughed. "I like him. He can stay."

"Mum!"

"What? You mean he isn't here for my approval? Well, he has it anyway. Come inside for a moment, the tea is fresh, and you'll need to say goodbye to the kids. And by the way, I'm Jane."

Hermione let out a half-hearted sigh. A visit with her parents was never short; she didn't know why she had thought she could just slip in and slip out. Though she could probably leave and the kids would be so wrapped up in their Papa that they'd never notice.

"Severus, would you like to just wait here while I drop off their things and say bye?"

He nodded and flipped out the tails on his black formal jacket before sitting on her mother's impossibly white and floral sofa.

She cast him a bemused glance before following her mum into the kitchen to drop of the kids' packs.

"He's pretty new to this, isn't he?" Jane asked.

"I think so," Hermione told her, "but I'm not really sure. We haven't talked about his past much. But I have a feeling he's spent most of his life pretty much alone."

"I thought so. And Severus, you said? Surely, not THE Severus?"

Her mum was more than aware of his past, between his being Hermione's instructor during the years Voldemort had threatened the world and then Harry's subsequent naming of his child.

Hermione laughed at her, partly to cover her nervousness. "How many do you know? Yes, that's THE Severus. You know I've been talking to him about Rose. We kind of hit it off, I suppose. Just friends until Ron left, I swear. Unlike some people I know," she added in a voice that told her mother exactly what she was talking about.

"You're kidding!"

"No, sadly, I'm not. And I may have broken his nose in the process of him telling me."

Jane nodded to her. "Good for you. Don't let yourself be a doormat."

Hermione looked at the wall as though burning holes into it to see the man on the other side. "But now what, Mum? Now what do I do? Ron just left, but Severus is here and the kids adore him. I have no question that if he had happened later, I'd have no reservations, but now? Is it too soon?"

"Hermione," said her mum, her voice crisp, "do you care about the man? Are you not single? Is he single? If you both want to try, then try. Que sera, sera, my love. It will happen if it was meant to. It won't happen if it wasn't."

Somehow, she always knew the right thing to say to make her daughter feel better. The conclusion Hermione came to was written all over her face, and she thanked her mum, found her dad for a hug, kissed both kids, and collected Severus to be off to dinner.

As she headed back up the path, her father came into the kitchen and watched them retreat. "Who is that with Hermione?

"Either our future son-in-law, or a bottle of wine and a box of Kleenex. Only time will tell."

She allowed him to Apparate them both to Diagon Alley, taking a leisurely stroll down the walk to the restaurant he had planned on. Nothing too fancy, or to casual, something a little off the beaten path. The night would be pointless if they spent if talking to acquaintances or the press.

Luck, however was not on their side. A few well-placed glares kept away most of the people who would otherwise have come to talk to the elusive Severus Snape, but no sooner had they reached their destination when Rita Skeeter herself came out of the establishment.

"Well, damn," Hermione muttered.

"If it isn't the latest news!" exclaimed Rita, already holding a quill and paper pad in her hands. "Quite the scandal. A broken marriage for two halves of the famous trio. But who is this? Why, dipping your hand into the pot so soon, Snape? Tell me, were you behind the separation to begin with, or were you just lying in wait to seize the opportunity to be with the fairest member of the Golden Trio?"

"Perhaps she was waiting to be with me," Snape countered.

Rita gasped as her pen flew and scribed page after page. "Is that it then? Were you just waiting for the chance to take both of your children from their adoring father, and your perfect husband, longing to live dangerously with Voldemort's most trusted servant?"

Oh, she did not just say that Ron had no blame in any of this. Was she always condemned to be thought less of because she hadn't come from a respected Pureblood family? That was simply not fair, and it was time the wool was taken off the public's eye about their media darling, Ronald Weasley. The children were with their mum. They would never know.

"You know, he was Dumbledore's too, fat lot of good that did him. And it was Ron who was stepping out, not me. If either of us should be questioned, it's him. See where he has been lately. I'm clean."

She held her arm out to Severus and allowed him to escort her inside.

"I'm so sorry to drag you into this," she told him while the waiter brought menus. "Ron, my parents, the kids. I'm sure this wasn't exactly what you pictured when you found yourself interested in someone."

"Truthfully," he answered as he poured them both some wine, "I never really pictured myself with anyone after Lily died. I'm not sure I ever pictured myself with her either. So all of this is unexpected. But that is not to say that it is unwelcome."

Hermione pondered what he had told her. It seemed he was willing to put up with quite a bit, which was not what she had expected from him. She had been a bit surprised when he still even wanted to go through with the date after having to meet her parents, albeit briefly, and she had been even more surprised when he followed through with dinner after the confrontation in the doorway.

"Did you ever want kids?" she asked boldly.

"No. I'm not father material. Some may call me a bit sadistic, but I would never wish myself on a child."

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him. "You do fine with Hugo and Rose. Better than their father."

He didn't say much while the waiter took their orders, mulling over her words.

It was true her children didn't trigger that rising flare of anger and irritation that so, so many of the others did. They were respectful, and eager, and inquisitive.

"I believe they have benefited from a superb maternal upbringing."

Hermione smiled. "You better believe it. But both of my kids seem to really like you. And you know that dating me, you're dating them in a sense too. Is that going to be okay? We're kind of a package deal."

"Would I be permitted to take Hugo for a day to the Junior Potioneers conference in London?"

"Yes, of course! As long as he wants to."

"Could Rose be taught to hug me, but only on special occasions?"

"I can certainly try, but no promises."

"Would I be allowed to unwrap a certain part of the package later?" he concluded, while eyeing her porcelain white neck and her smattering of freckles.

She chuckled softly. "Well, now you might be pushing your luck, but we'll see," she told him while her toes made contact just above his knee.

The headline for the Prophet the next morning ran in large, lurid purple font:

**"Ronald Weasley Contracts Penis Plimpies After Illicit Affair!"**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

When break was over, the children went back to school, and Hermione went to, well, not much. It was really high time she start her research if she was going to beat Severus at his bet.

She continued to see him at least once a week. It wasn't long before word got out that she was making visits, so she occasionally had to have tea with Filius or pop in to say hi to Minerva. It seemed the nature of her visits was currently under wraps or she certainly would have heard about it by now. The gossip in Hogwarts was legendary.

Though even they were surprised by the Daily Prophet the morning after their first date. No one had suspected that Ron would step out on Hermione before their union was severed. It wasn't like a Muggle divorce. It took mere weeks instead of months or years. It didn't seem that hard to wait.

Or at least be more discreet about it.

Ron had taken the publicity badly, first trying to say that Hermione had a fling as well but when that was proved to be false, he just turned mean. He tried insinuating that she was a lousy wife, a bad mother, a horrible housekeeper, anything to make people feel sorry for him and take his side. Even sent her a Howler asking how dare she.

She sent him a Howler in return. She hadn't heard from him since.

Things were surprisingly good in the romance department.

After their spontaneous night together on New Year's, they had backed off to a slower pace. They needed time to get to know each other outside of the influence of the children.

Hermione found that she liked what she was learning. Perhaps too much.

Was it wrong of her to immediately fall for another man? She had been with Ron practically her whole life. She had had very few crushes before him, but one thing she found to be true: falling in love as an adult was very different than falling in love as a teenager.

She found that she was not afraid to tell him that she didn't care for chess because the pieces were too violent, or that the best date might just be reading by the fire, or yes, she liked it when he touched her just there, right there.

While many of their interests were different, they were compatible. He was teaching her about potions and helping her return her magic to the level at which it used to be. She was introducing him to literature and charms.

He wasn't very good at wand waving, and she could still only barely brew a potion.

If she was surprised that she had found happiness with him—with her ex-professor, with an older man, with him—she never told him.

Severus was surprised at how quickly things in his life could change without his knowledge or consent. One day, "Spawn of a Weasley" had been an epithet, and the next day, he was tutoring and caring for two of them. They truly did live up to their name, weaseling themselves in when he wasn't looking. Bloody Slytherin thing to do if you asked him.

And their mother, well, Hermione was something completely different. When she pushed too far, asked too many questions, or he was feeling overwhelmed with his, well, feelings, he would attempt to become surly and disagreeable, which had always scared off other well-meaning people in the past. But not Hermione. Something about dealing with Potter and the Weasel for twenty years, and being the mum of two precocious children, had made her not give a damn what face he made or what he grumbled under his breath. She did the same to him that she did to her children. When the storm blew over, she would still be there.

And she was, every time.

It was hard to resist what couldn't be ignored, so between her children, her trust, and her damnable snickerdoodles, that he did not eat whole batches of, he found himself in a place he had never really been before. He was a part of something. An equal part.

For Easter break that year, the kids decided to stay over at the castle. Rose had gotten Scorpius to agree to a Gobstones match, and Hugo rarely went anywhere without his sister. A book was all he needed for company anyhow. And truthfully, they didn't care to spend the holiday at their dad's, though their mum had taught them to be polite, so they kept quiet.

As a special treat, the kids asked their parents to come to the castle for an afternoon. Just a time to visit, maybe take a swim in the lake or a walk in the forest. Ron hadn't really visited, except for the one night he went looking for Hermione. When Hermione visited, it was with a purpose. She didn't ever just roam around the site that had been home to her for so long and was an integral part of who she was.

Hermione immediately agreed. She would be able to spend the day with her children and perhaps with Severus too. Ron took a little more cajoling, but eventually he agreed as well.

"Should we say something to him? Or to anyone really?" Hermione asked Severus as they spent an evening at her place while Hermione made Easter baskets and Severus looked on with reproach.

"About?" She really needed to learn how to take passengers along her train of thought.

Hermione waved a hand between the two of them. "This. Us. We can't hide it forever, no matter how peaceful it's been. Eventually we need to tell someone."

"I certainly don't see why."

"Are you ashamed to be with me?" she asked as she stuffed more green plastic grass in Hugo's basket.

Severus snorted. "Of course not. Don't be daft."

"And I'm not of you either, so there really isn't a reason not to say something. And it's not fair to the kids. What if someone finds out and asks them about it? I can't have others knowing more about us than they do."

He picked up a few chocolate eggs that had rolled away and handed them to her. "You won't be Ronald."

"No. I won't be Ronald."

"Fine. Shout it from on high. Let the tranquility be shattered by those vultures. Let the hate mail and the threats begin."

She rolled her eyes. "I highly doubt we are that interesting. It was easy enough to distract Rita. And I have a feeling you will survive."

"No doubt."

The afternoon of Easter Sunday, Hermione waited nervously outside the gates for Ron. Severus had the children with him, looking for plants along the edge of the Forbidden Forest to brew as an extra credit project for Rose. As she waited, Hermione watched their black silhouettes amongst the shadows of the trees, his tall one over their smaller ones, and she could see his arms slowly guiding them through the underbrush.

She smiled.

And waited.

And became irritated.

Then angry.

Then resigned.

Ron wasn't coming.

Her shoulders slumped as she saw the kids and Severus coming back to meet her. Once again, it would be up to her to make everything right, to be Mum and Dad. She loved her children more than anything, but sometimes, it just wasn't fair.

Severus read the look of distress in her eyes but didn't yet know enough about her family to ease her pain or say the right thing.

"He isn't coming, is he?" said Rose in a queer, flat voice.

Hugo stood silent and twisted his toe in the dirt beside the gate.

"Professor Severus, would you mind being my dad too?"

Hermione and Severus both looked at Hugo with mouths open. His pronouncement was rather unexpected, but, well, he was a Gryffindor.

Severus looked to Hermione, who just shrugged.

"Honey, do you want Severus to be a mentor for you?"

Hugo nodded. "But I want him to play chess with me, and brew potions, and come to my birthday parties and stuff too. The things that Dad doesn't. Professor Severus doesn't promise if he isn't going to do it. And he knows I don't like Quidditch. And he likes books."

Hermione wrapped her arm around her son in a hug and looked at Severus, who, in turn, took in both of them. All of them, really, for Rose was standing to the side but giving him the same look of hopeful desperation, her emerald earrings shining in her ears.

"Can you call me Severus?"

"Sir?"

"Are you deaf, boy?"

"No, sir. Severus, sir. Severus. No, Severus. I'm not deaf." Hugo stumbled over his words, eventually gaining the courage to look his professor in the eye and call him by his name, showing the man he was to become. Not his father's image.

"Well then, let's start there. I can promise to always be here if you need me."

"ONE! Two! Three! Oh, sod it!" Rose exclaimed as she dove right in and hugged the professor, ignoring the way his buttons scraped her cheek and the way he stiffened for just a moment. This time Hugo stood alone until Severus let out a disgruntled sigh and partially raised one hand. Hugo took the hint and tucked himself under his arm, face buried in his robes, while his mother turned her head to admire the skyline. She wasn't wiping away a tear. Of course not.

"Come, children!" she told them. "Let's go inside and brew!"

Severus let out an audible sigh of relief when the children released him to run up to the castle, earning him a playful smack on the arm.

"C'mon!' Hermione shouted, running after her kids. "I'll race you!"

"You'll do no such thing."

Hermione followed the children back into the castle with Severus trailing slowly behind.

* * *

><p>"Add the powdered asphodel," said a voice that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. It took on a totally different dimension now that she wasn't in school.<p>

Each of the students—and she used that term loosely—had their own cauldron.

Hermione's cauldron was a silky black—perfect, if she did say so herself. Rose's was doing remarkably well, and Hugo had long ago abandoned the project for a Shrinking Solution. Still advanced, but more manageable.

The liquid slowly bubbled and churned as Hermione waited for it to turn to the pale lilac she hoped it would. It had been a long time since she had brewed, after all, though she did have the Half-Blood Prince in the flesh to help her.

Hmm. In the flesh.

Her mind wandered.

Beside her, Rose, had a lazy rod gently stirring her potion while she added the powdered asphodel. Would Scorpius be able to brew this potion? She bet he could. With his eyes closed, more than likely. He was brilliant.

She closed her eyes and counted to soothe herself. One…two…three…

"Rose! No!" came a strong, loud, rough-sounding voice that shook her from her reverie just as the third pinch of asphodel left her fingers. What had Professor Snape said about asphodel?

_"Two pinches alone unless you wish to die a most painful death."_

Oh, bugger.

The liquid fizzled and steamed and screamed so loudly that Rose only had time to cover her ears before the entire cauldron melted and exploded.

Leaving silence.

The only sounds that could be heard were a few slow drip, drip, drips from the potion making its way from the cupboards, the jars, and the tables to the floor.

And also the sound of hoarse, shallow breathing.

When Hermione's eyes opened, fearing the worst, fearing seeing her Rose, her Hugo, her Severus dead, she saw two astonished faces looking back at her, both surrounded in a clear perfect bubble of safety.

Hermione herself had her arms spread wide in her own little bubble, inside which came a shaky, "Hermione?"

"Severus!"

Severus opened his eyes to see his partially destroyed, completely drenched classroom and blurted the first thing that came to his mind: "Merlin, I love you."

Hermione wasn't given a chance to respond as he gave her a kiss, right in front of Rose, Hugo, and the portrait of the first Potions Master of Hogwarts, who would have the gossip spreading faster than you could say cauldron.

"Ew!"

"Gross!"

"Mum!"

"Severus!"

Hermione laughed and pulled away. "You are really sticky."

Severus looked down at his robes, covered in the harmless splashes from the two incomplete potions. He could see the pattern of muck he had left on Hermione's shirt and apologized before taking off his robes.

"See, Rose? I told you he liked the shirt."

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the man before her, black button-down robes draped open, white tee on beneath, telling Rose that all was well, she wasn't going to fail Potions, as her daughter cried inconsolably.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?" he answered, distracted by the sobbing teenage witch.

"I love you too."

She couldn't believe she had finally gained her magic back. As Severus calmed down Rose, he explained that it may have been a magical blockage of sorts, allowed a little magic to seep through, but not all of it.

"We were losing the dam, allowed the trickle to become a stream but the explosion is what finally broke the magic free. You should be completely capable now."

A few experiments with her wand proved that to be the case. She told him that she was glad that if it had to pick a moment to resurface, it was at a time like this, where she could cast shields to save their lives.

His lips quirked. "I knew there was a reason to keep you around."

***Finite Incantatem***

Or is it?


End file.
